Turbulence

THE DIMLY LIT CABIN WAS shuddering thirty-eight thousand feet above sea level but he seemingly failed to notice it.  As the Melbourne-bound Airbus 320 banked to the left to head southeast, his mind was simultaneously drifting back to Mosely Square in Glenelg.  Like the jet engine, Rogelio was trying to control his emotions so he could move on but the drama last night was like an opposing aerodynamic force that, he knew, will surely keep the next few days from propelling.

The natural, mid-morning light was blinding, and its warmth was penetrating through the plexiglass but he couldn’t be bothered to shut the shade of the oval window next to him.  His face was perfectly illuminated thus highlighting his despair!

She’s not mine, she had never been mine, he thought while he was staring blankly outside the aircraft.  After seeing her with another guy that evening—holding hands, and walking together along Jetty Road until they gradually disappeared through the Norfolk pines and into the darkness, he’s certain that she could never ever be his lover.

He gently closed his eyes... took a deep breath, and shook his head. 

Suddenly, the cabin seemed to have quickly dropped in the air, falling from the sky.  The aircraft had managed to gracefully recover just as he opened his eyes.  Then somebody reached out from the aisle to hand him a piece of packed sandwich and an elegant, branded serviette.

He was not hungry.

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Continued here:  Nightfall