RavenBlue
Blue Crack Addict
Yes I know. I should be working on TTSADS. But this just came up. It's a one off. Just an idea I had.
Cheers
Disclaimer: Don't know the band, tis all a work of fiction.
---
You've just had a stroke of luck.
You've been bumped up to business class.
You throw your carry-on up top into the luggage carrier and then make your way to your window seat.
You love window seats.
It doesn't seem too crowded today.
Not too many flying in this cruddy weather.
But you are.
And you're alright with that.
You like movement.
You like the feeling of 'taking off'
Of not being attached to ground.
Of leaving the world behind for an hour or two
So you can converse with a different kind of atmosphere
And daydream a mile high
They're getting ready to close the doors.
Looks like you'll be sitting by yourself today.
That makes you happy.
No worries of tripping over someones legs while trying to make a trip to the loo.
And you're lost in your thoughts again.
Not really thinking of anything of consequence.
Not of where you're going or where you've been.
It's the daydreams again.
They're your solace.
Your companion.
You open the sketchbook in your lap.
And wait.
Will it be eyes or will it be trees?
Or will it be the eyes in the forest.
It's always a toss-up.
You let the pencil have free will.
Yes, you have that power.
You fall into the blank page
And wait.
Your pencil moves.
In fact, your whole seat moves.
Movement.
But not vehicle movement.
Something beside you.
Someone.
Someone has plunked themselves down next to you.
Secretly, you sneer.
Of all the empty seats.
Someone has to sit next to you.
Forget it.
You tell yourself.
It's done.
And once again, you are fading back into that blank sketchbook page.
The pencil moves.
It's an eye.
A sketchy eye.
You shade in the pupil, slowly.
Then raise your eyes to look out the window at the tarmac.
Busy people down below moving in controlled chaos.
You hope they put your luggage on the right plane.
But you don't really care either way.
You're here.
Bumped up.
To business class.
And loving the extra leg room.
You've your arm on the rest.
When something bumps it.
This startles you.
Hurling you out of daydreamland.
You jump.
A voice.
A male voice.
"Sorry about that, love"
You are about to say something back.
Something that tells him you are mad.
But you don't.
You reply with a soft "Oh, it's alright"
And even a little smile.
So predictable.
You are so predictable.
You look at him, briefly.
Quickly.
Something in your mind clicks.
Click.
Click.
OH.MY.GOD
Certainly, this must be an error of the mind.
Certainly.
You cast him another look.
He catches you.
Lends a smile.
Yep.
You've just had a stroke of luck.
Again.
You can live with your traveling companion now.
You let go of your daydreams.
And await what will be an interesting adventure.
With your seat buddy.
Bono.
Cheers
Disclaimer: Don't know the band, tis all a work of fiction.
---
You've just had a stroke of luck.
You've been bumped up to business class.
You throw your carry-on up top into the luggage carrier and then make your way to your window seat.
You love window seats.
It doesn't seem too crowded today.
Not too many flying in this cruddy weather.
But you are.
And you're alright with that.
You like movement.
You like the feeling of 'taking off'
Of not being attached to ground.
Of leaving the world behind for an hour or two
So you can converse with a different kind of atmosphere
And daydream a mile high
They're getting ready to close the doors.
Looks like you'll be sitting by yourself today.
That makes you happy.
No worries of tripping over someones legs while trying to make a trip to the loo.
And you're lost in your thoughts again.
Not really thinking of anything of consequence.
Not of where you're going or where you've been.
It's the daydreams again.
They're your solace.
Your companion.
You open the sketchbook in your lap.
And wait.
Will it be eyes or will it be trees?
Or will it be the eyes in the forest.
It's always a toss-up.
You let the pencil have free will.
Yes, you have that power.
You fall into the blank page
And wait.
Your pencil moves.
In fact, your whole seat moves.
Movement.
But not vehicle movement.
Something beside you.
Someone.
Someone has plunked themselves down next to you.
Secretly, you sneer.
Of all the empty seats.
Someone has to sit next to you.
Forget it.
You tell yourself.
It's done.
And once again, you are fading back into that blank sketchbook page.
The pencil moves.
It's an eye.
A sketchy eye.
You shade in the pupil, slowly.
Then raise your eyes to look out the window at the tarmac.
Busy people down below moving in controlled chaos.
You hope they put your luggage on the right plane.
But you don't really care either way.
You're here.
Bumped up.
To business class.
And loving the extra leg room.
You've your arm on the rest.
When something bumps it.
This startles you.
Hurling you out of daydreamland.
You jump.
A voice.
A male voice.
"Sorry about that, love"
You are about to say something back.
Something that tells him you are mad.
But you don't.
You reply with a soft "Oh, it's alright"
And even a little smile.
So predictable.
You are so predictable.
You look at him, briefly.
Quickly.
Something in your mind clicks.
Click.
Click.
OH.MY.GOD
Certainly, this must be an error of the mind.
Certainly.
You cast him another look.
He catches you.
Lends a smile.
Yep.
You've just had a stroke of luck.
Again.
You can live with your traveling companion now.
You let go of your daydreams.
And await what will be an interesting adventure.
With your seat buddy.
Bono.