7am. I leave Alain's flat in London. I'm headed back to the US. Alone. I'm getting used to seeing myself off and welcoming myself to the next place. On the tube map someone has pasted a "D" where the "H" should be on "Heathrow". I'm being dramatic, but that's how I'm feeling. My shoulders ache with my too-heavy bags. My head pounds with lack of sleep. The pit of my stomach protests that I am leaving the one person I want not to leave a continent and an ocean away.
Somehow the hungover NBA cheerleaders in front of me at the airport don't even cheer me up. Though, I am mildly entertained.
"God, he was the hottest guy I've seen, like, ever...I don't even think I saw his face...I mean, when we woke up this morning, I was almost afraid to look at him."
A few minutes later: "I totally should have asked his name."
Well folks, it's great to be back in America.
Okay, okay, some credit. The nicest boy sat next to me on the plane. He was from Boston. He asked me about my book and he offered to help a disabled woman with her luggage. 20 maybe, big nose, funny glasses, dorky shoes. I loved every bit of him for not being a cheerleader.
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2 commentaires:
are you in love with someone? sounds like it a little bit.....hmmmmmm. birds must be singing somewhere in that cotton top of yours.
Kilano, how is it that you manage to embarrass me from across the continent? :)
Thanks for reading.
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