Travel

I wondered how it would feel, as I sat there with my ticket to that foreign, otherworldly place in my hand. Would it hurt, leaving behind everything I knew? Or would I be able to sever ties to my old life like scissors against rope? What would it be like, over there? Would there be anyone waiting for me? I clutched my travel notes, pills, and waterbottle in my hand - my only carry-on luggage - so tightly my knuckles turned white, as I played with my curls. My sleeves almost slipped down, and I didn't bother correcting it. Somehow, things like that didn't seem to matter anymore.

I shifted in my seat, waiting for something. Was I waiting for a call? I was pretty sure that didn't happen here. Or even for a farewelling party? No. No one would come to see me off. They'd probably be too upset to let me go. After all, it was a big change in everyone's lives. Somehow, I thought, the person who would be affected most by this departure would be me. The others would be sad after they realized I'd slipped away without telling them, sure, but they'd get over it, over me.

I took my travel pills, to stop me from getting airsick on my voyage. Fourteen of them. I'd been saving them, almost hoarding, for this special trip. Should wash it down now and get it over with, I decided, and drank a deep gulp of vodka.