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On the Ground
The flight to Chicago was relatively short compared to the next flight we would catch, but I couldn’t let go of the feeling that there was something going on with that flight attendant with the dark curly hair. Every time she walked by, she looked at me and gave me a knowing smile. I hated it. I wanted to demand that she just tell me who she was and what she was up to.
Ben did his best to keep me calm, but that is easier said than done. I wasn’t easily calmed in the state I was in. I spent the entire flight with my fingernails digging into the armrests.
At one point, I swore the plane took a steep angle and began to decline. My eyes were the size of platters as I asked Ben, “What’s going on? What was that?”
“What’s what?” Ben asked. He had a magazine in front of him, but he wasn’t reading it, not with me acting so weird. “We’re just changing altitudes. Everything is fine.”
I noticed t
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