The Friendly Skies
Elliot spun his wedding ring on his finger idly. If you had asked him six months ago, he’d never imagined he’d be here. On a 737, staring at the stupid passengers. Seething. He hated them all. He had already counted seven kids. Seven screamers. He was grinding his teeth.
But, at least he got to travel. His wife hated flying, so they never went anywhere. Even one night in an exotic locale was better than the cube farm, too. The hours were better, anyway.
“Boarding complete. Cabin secure. Prepare for take-off.” Elliot grasped the intercom so hard it nearly shattered.