"You said we should fly on a small airline. Small airlines, small seats," he said quietly in retort. I looked at the page he was on. It was the same one as half an hour ago. Flustered with the cramped conditions and slow progress, I crossed my arms and pouted. Jason continued to read.
A stewardess with long legs and a low neckline sashayed down the aisle. An older gentleman followed her. I watched her go, slowly swaying her hips as if she had nothing better to do. The man trailing her with obvious lust in his eyes and joy in his pants. Disgusted, I looked at the balding spot of the fat man in front of me.
Jason flipped ahead in his book. I glanced back to see what chapter he was on. "Flying Squirrels" was written in bold black letters at the top of the page.
"If you'll excuse me," I started to say. He stood up before I could finish my line and I moved passed him, heading to the back of the plane where the stewardess had went. If I was lucky, she would still be there. Unbuttoning my suit jacket, I continued to walk the narrow aisle. The bathrooms were just ahead. Even on a large airline, bathrooms tended to be small. On this plane, I half expected it to consist of a cup and a hose and a curtain for privacy.
"I'm here," came a whisper. I looked up and saw the firm bottom of the stewardess as it dipped down to the floor. So she was still there.
"Hey," I whispered back. As I rounded the shallow cooking kitchen, I found her stepping over 'Mark's' body. She'd taken care of him quietly. "Poison? Strangulation?" I whispered.
"Suffocation," she said as she did up a button on her uniform. "And I would avoid using the bathroom until after I clean it." I loved the way this woman worked.
Hefting 'Mark's' body into the dumb-waiter, I watched as she disappeared into the bathroom. A moment later, I put myself in the dumb-waiter. I could feel it moving toward the belly of the plane. In the dark, I sat with the damp and cooling body as I pulled two panels apart. The hole was just big enough for his body to slide through if I held him by the arms, but the air gushing in rocked the plane side-to-side. As we moved over a large patch of deep green, I let go of 'Mark's' hands.
Panels replaced, having hefted myself up through the dumb-waiter, and washed my hands in the tiny bathroom, I wondered when I would receive my next text that the company needed someone to break new ground. The thought of it made me think of her. I hoped a text would come through soon.
*** Daily Writing Practice ***
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