Ficly

People I'll Never See

The plane’s shadow crosses millions. New York to Berlin. Millions of shadowy faces hidden beneath the air between me and the Earth. Staring out the window, I consider those who inhabit the shadow for those brief periods of time. Maybe an older businessman, eager to see his family. Maybe a young child on a playground. Those two thoughts don’t bother me. I consider the quiet girl trapped under the shadow. Sundress on, ignoring the world, strolling alone through a crowded city. Eager to find company, eager to find a friend.

This thought pains me, more so than any jet lag can. The soul that the plane will fly over, passing without a stop. Maybe she’ll look up and see my flight. Maybe she’ll think about the passengers on board, about a quiet lost soul looking for another quiet lost soul.

Or maybe she wont.

I don’t think it matters anyway.

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