Amy Tidwell sat in the airport terminal waiting for her flight to arrive. She was dressed modestly. There would have been nothing particularly noticeable about her had it not been for her hair, or her lack-there-of. She peered over her magazine as the people filled in the seats, she was reading a gossip magazine, just something to pass the time while she waited for the flight to Denver. She marveled at the trivial things some people found fascinating. Celebrities shop, why should the general public care? She scowled, folding up the magazine right when her row was called. She gathered her things and joined the queue.
She quickly turned to look back as a man cleared his throat. "Ma'am? do you need any help with your bags?" She answered quickly and curtly, "I'm perfectly capable actually. But thanks anyway." Her temper was short today but she still felt a bit bad when she saw the man's face. He looked a bit embarrassed, she hadn't bothered to keep her voice down and half the terminal had taken notice. She turned back around to see that he was looking to the floor shuffling his feet.
She grabbed her luggage and feebly shuffled to the front of the line, which had moved a considerable distance while she had been shouting. After the woman at the machine scanned her ticket she made her way through the plane to her seat. 17D, the window seat, 'wonderful' she thought looking at the tiny seat. She placed her bags in the overhead compartment and sat down. Just as she buckled the seat belt she watched the man she shouted at walking towards her, he made eye contact, but quickly looked away.
It wasn't until he stopped right in front her that she even entertained the idea he might be her seat mate. He looked extremely uncomfortable as he awkwardly tried to fit his bag into the overhead compartment. He eventually had to put it in the compartment adjacent to the assigned one. He sat down gingerly.
'This is going to be a long flight...'(to be continued)
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