“What was that?” The young man seated next to Marge on the plane that was supposed to take them from Rinca Island to Bali gripped the armrests with white knuckles. It was the third time he had flinched since he sat down.
“Whatever it was, I’m sure it wasn’t important.” Marge flipped through the in-flight magazine. She thought she might need to order a bourbon despite the short flight because of his nerves.
“How do you know?” He looked at her with abject panic.
“Because we haven’t left the ground yet.”
The Hub: Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
Photo credit: Melanie Greenwood
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