7:40 AM Flight

I slept four hours, not enough for one night. I awoke and I spoke but the words, they were meaningless. I slipped toes into shoes and laced tight. Between you and #2 plastic bags I was warmly dressed. My oversized gloves don't fit my hands right, but in the back of the bus in the warmth it's okay.

Two hours early for your eight o'clock flight. Seven days I would laze, but at least I was not depressed. "7:40," you said, "if you mean to be right." I had a good laugh at scribbled math you'd demand to see letterpressed! I had all of those hours left to fill, but at the end of the line in your arms, I just sighed.