type: modernism, inspiration: airplane + virginia woolf

I at the window, another at the aisle, he heaved up to us, sweat streaming down his forehead, his bulk trembling with the shortness of his breath, shirt creased and damp, is this seat taken, here in the middle? Our eyes screamed no, couldn’t he read our eyes screaming no, but we supposed he had to sit somewhere, cordially, oh, no, no, by all means and we looked at each other with despair as he heaved into the seat, thick sausage fingers clasping at the seat belt buckle, billowing elbows overflowing into my arm, all I can think about is the sweaty creases and that liquid trickle down the grey fluffy sideburns, my arm and leg scream in protest at every collision of his meaty arm and leg.

Briefly I glance out the window, the white clouds billowing underneath, and my mind flashes in fear, briefly, whatifisuddenlywentbackintimebeforeairplanesandthisairplanei’minthereforecrashestothegroundduetonothavingbeeninventedyet? Time travel, I am traveling time in my book which coincides with the travel of my airplane, almost too closely, maybe the airplane will crash after all I’m in a time before airplanes, it surely will crash.

How to sleep, how to sleep with meaty armbones and legbones and my elbows crunched up against my ribs with my boxed snack on my lap my legs are getting cramped but they recoil in horror at those hamhocks meaty legbones. Spotted grey-darkness when the fringed-lid hath closed, i think of someone and immediately my mind says rules of engagement, rules of engagement in response to my analysis of our interactions and I find that phrase oddly suiting, am pleased with myself, repeat it a few more times for good measure, oh yes, definitely, rules of engagement, we have several.