Seatmate
The nausea sits low in my stomach, not completely washed away by the arrival of my seatmate. I study her as she sits down next to me, providing an interruption to my preflight nerves. She’s a petite, young woman, which makes me feel instantly better about the next ten hours we will spend tethered together in the air.
I can’t help but peek at her text messages, only to realize that I cannot understand the French words she so feverishly types. I retreat into my own world, not wishing to engage on my journey home.
My eyes open and my head jerks to the sound of rumbling.
“There’s something wrong with the plane, but we haven’t located the issue yet.” The captain says.
Some people are still asleep while others are buzzing. The mood has taken a definite turn. I glance at her as she does at me. As I start to hear a second announcement, she grabs my hand and squeezes.