August 31: The World Goes On, But Me, I’m Just Okay

To the widowed stranger…

As we boarded the plane that evening, He complimented my eyes, glossy and blue.  We couldn’t be more different in demographics, but peering up from their own Personal backstory, my eyes seemed oddly familiar to his own. It had been 8 months since his wife passed, and tonight, we met in the clouds. I imagine her silent words keeping his spirits just high enough to fly another day, and I presume he gained some peace in the darkness as they became touchably close and no longer alone. I refocus on my shakey wine glass in fear of the stain. turbulence doesn’t always come with a warning, and red wine doesn’t always come out.

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