It's early morning when my plane lands
and I'm playing poker. Winning and losing like always.
The cabin is fire in the rising sun. Beside me,
the man in the aisle seat takes my hand. Soft
as it is, I feel the plane again
sway. Paris is beautiful in this light,
he says. I give him a look. This isn't Paris.
I pull my hand away. We're going to Pakovia.
My friends will be happy to see me
again. I lean away from the man and ignore the look
he gives me.
I know where I'm going.
He is no one
to tell me otherwise. I shuffle my deck
red like the sun against the tray table of the seat in front
of me. The attendant tells me to put it away.
The deck or the tray? She looks sick of me
and my joke. The man beside me
grabs my right leg and jokes like we know
each other. We don't. I freeze.
Don't be shy, he whispers, I wouldn't waste
poison on a girl like you.
YOU ARE READING
Mentally Insane Creative Writing
Short StoryRandom short stories, poems and other creative writing by yours truly. May never be published, who knows.
