My status

Wednesday, December 13, 2017

Holding on...

Observing the sunrise through the scratched plexiglass cover encasing the window serving 7A on my flight, I feel alone. The sun peeks forward in its predictable timely fashion, too routine and ordinary to deem worthy of anything more than a brief respite and assurance that this day will go on with or without my approval. I glide sheepishly into the worn, leather adorned chair, fashioned no longer to impress its world travelers, but just to stand up to the abuse of the masses who must coax their tired, fattened frames into its rigid embrace hundreds of times a week. Like a stained, damp mattress at an hourly hotel, it is up to the repetitive job if rudimentary function is your pleasure. And pleasure is the essence of what you seek here, is it not?