“Are you from San Diego?” Her chin wobbled as she spoke.
“Originally.” He wasn’t interested in small talk with this woman whose body was a bit too large for her seat.
“I couldn’t be more excited,” she went on without encouragement. “I’ve never been past Arizona.”
He looked at her trying to hide his disgust. He could smell hotdogs and cigarettes on her breath. There was a blotch of dried mustard on her chest.
“It’s quite a sight,” he said.
“You been gone long?” Clearly she was not getting the hint. He grunted in response.
“My name’s Kristi.” She offered with a too wide grin.
“Of course it is.” He muttered at her and turned to the window.
“Don’t you love the runway?” She said.
“Sometimes I wish the whole plane could be made of glass so we could really see everything.” She offered again when he didn’t reply.
“It’s alright.” She said after a moment. “I agree with you really. A plane is the one place in the world you can think anymore. No phones ringing, no e-mails to be answered, televisions to watch. Just you with your thoughts for the whole flight. It’s something to be treasured really.”
At that moment the flip screen televisions came to life in front of them and he grinned as she groaned to herself and shut her eyes.
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