Peach at 32,008 Foot Altitude


She exemplifies youth. A stewardess trainee. Young hopeful eager. Straight teeth. Freckles and light peach hair. Longer than shoulder length and I could tell she took care of it. Strong and full. Well brushed. I observed her starting from a few rows ahead after being awakened by a captain interruption about weather or other. Coffee. Cream and sugar? Yes. She dropped one thin rectangular sugar pack tracing it’s fall with her head. Her hair recoiling. She reached for a replacement. Three in all and I used each one. I felt pleasure in her serving me coffee. Admiration that she’s a stewardess. Unattached happiness for her that she was right there on the plane where she was. Wished her the best in life. Was glad that I’d seen her and accidentally touched her wrist with my finger as she handed me the warm cup.

And she being the first interesting person of the day. Maybe the only.

What am I doing, loveless?

Drink that coffee up. A long day ahead. Worrying about wrinkling your clothes is nonsense. Everyone knows you’ve debarked a plane that morning but still they could wonder, as I do, why those wrinkles are there.