The Wordsmiths Book 2021

A Single Similarity

My worst nightmare. An airtight box filled with obnoxiously inconsiderate people; flocks of them arise in their one time in life where they can truly showcase their desire to be a nuisance. Children scream chronicles of compressed eardrums and claustrophobia. Parents seldom sigh and pray for the choral medleys of hunger to cease. An aching longing for the hours spent in strangers close proximity to come to an end haunts even the most anomalous of passengers. Their destination awaits. Minutes seem to tick by slower as the time crawls towards the light at the end of the seemingly endless flight path. Masks seem to hug tighter as the time goes by. The blissful ignorance of those who refuse allows cool air to endlessly caress the subtle hairs all over their face. Though time will tell whether a dearth of putrid air was worth it, or if their time on this Earth is consequently minimised from their wretched stubbornness. But alas, among all the distinguishable differences from passenger to passenger, at least they have one thing in common. We all do.

Plane rides suck.

Libby Burrows

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