March 29, 2016:
Wings and officer's blazer, earbuds, snoring in the handicapped seat. Captain of our futures. Our flight is in rested hands.
In an act of '80s nostalgia I eat a large frozen yogurt. Sting and Duran Duran have left the building.
My far away sweet friend is flirty, sending slinky underwear pics on Kik. "Ooops," she texts, "sorry!" And follows with more.
Boarding in ten.