Frequent Flyer

A Thirty Nine and A 'Mardy'-Gras

Lauren had taken the train from Amsterdam to Bonn, and flew from Bonn to Berlin. I couldn't quite process, too much drastic events in just under fifteen minutes especially involving my good friend and my Lauren - I couldn't really figure it out what we are especially leaving me stranded in Amsterdam. However, pressures like this is normal in the aeroplane on mayday situation. Thankfully I had never been in that situation in-flight, only on flight simulator.

"We heard about the plane crash in Schiphol, we are glad you made it here in Berlin safely. I am also impressed you found a way to make it, as short haul departure flights are cancelled for the next two days as they clear the debris from the runway." Alex applauded Lauren's diligence and ingenuity to getting things done despite of mitigating circumstance. It gave him the sincerest impression that Lauren is ready to become a legal director.

Days after the crash

I concentrated on trying to get better, after witnessing the incident my friend and my mentor had gone through. Alan survived, but needed months to recover from sustained injuries of a broken rib and dislocated arm.

London, England

Psychiatrist office

I took some time off to get myself sorted from post traumatic stress disorder. I was lying uncomfortably on a leather upholstered bed in my psychiatrist office.

"Knowing Alan and his passengers only sustained injuries and no casualties, was fine. The thought of Lauren being spared made me happy and confessing my love for her but she took off to Berlin for work. I thought she'd be on board... with me, for a relationship. It's been weeks since I was able to you know, feel aroused. I completely lost my appetite for sex." I narrated to the psychiatrist, Dr Thomas.

"I don't think it's PTSD, I think it's pride of getting hurt again by a woman."

All that for a two hundred Sterling pound session. I realised, prostitutes would have done a much better trick... but all I could think of was Lauren, so it will just be useless. Imagine me, getting a hooker just to drown her with my bodily fluids... my tears.

It's a new low for me, not being able to release my seminal fluid of ageing swimmers on to and inside someone. If my spermies have faces, then they'll probably be wearing reading glasses, sporting a beard and thinning hairline. Thankfully bald patches don't run in my genes. My X chromosome spermies would have wrinkles, droopy breasts and wider hips of fat by now. I walked around London, deliberately avoiding Mayfair and the places Lauren and I had been to.

Poppy Newman, yet again is alone on a birthday. It wasn't a big deal, she was used to flying solo. Birthdays, these days, are only a big deal when opening bank accounts, government documents and email account opening. Her colleagues never knew her birthday, it was after all professionalism.

She had given up many things for her career:

1) she bought a pedigree cocker spaniel, only for her to give it to RSPCA four days after because of work schedule conflict... poor Snoozy.

2) upon realising that she cannot be a dog mother, then more so a mother. A dog can be given to RSPCA within reason, but not a child. One can only wish.

When she was in a relationship with Mark, a tax advisor. He had always been keen to be a father... lesser boring than a lawyer but not any better. She hid her pills in her office drawer.

3) Mark cheated on her for her paralegal. Poppy, slept with his bosses and a couple more of his clients.

4) Mark dumped her, she discovered Tinder.