" I could see a curious look on the young college student's face as he glanced at the plastic box which was connected to the wire running into the arm...ole of my orange and white sundress. For a moment he looked like he might ask about it but, thankfully, he chose not to. We exchanged some pleasantries, but I could feel my face and shoulders burning from embarrassment.I sat close to Alfredo, gripping the controller in my left hand tightly. The pink wire ran across my lap. What did this young man. The interviewer looked very agitated when he opened the door.“THERE YOU ARE!”“Yes. I knew that,” I said, pretending to be startled.“Where were you!?”“I was right here! Like you said!”I guess he had come to collect me while I was out.“No you weren’t! Tell me where you were!”“What, without the machine? Is that safe? I might lie to you. I could tell you anything and you’d have no way of knowing.”“WHERE WERE YOU?”“Right here! Look, you probably checked the wrong office. It happens, at a certain. Anyhow, when I was invited in, there she was, Kathy and even more hot than 15 or so years ago, even if she was 50 now.She explained that her Hubby had passed away a few years earlier due to cancer and commented on how much I had grown. I thought, but so has her Son, but then her Son wasn’t potential “male crumpet” and I noted straight away how she kept admiring me and giving me the eye. I kept putting such thoughts down to “wishful thinking” on my part and tried to ignore it.Over the next X. I suppose somewhere in this world, there’s an airport. A hollow, shelled husk of what I’d refer to as an airport. Maybe my friends still exist in some way. Maybe they exist beyond the weakening memories. Do they remember me? Am I just a weak, rough memory for their minds to ponder over, as well? Am I just a wilted, discarded husk in a long since abandoned airport? Sometimes I worry that I’ll never fly again. Sometimes I worry that the clouds will always waltz so high above me, their only.
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