The Take-Off


Seats F and E 
in Row 24
were now occupied.
She had the window seat,
he had the middle.
A half-full flight,
no one else in their row.
She gazed out at the tarmac.
Take-offs and landings
made her apprehensive.
The stranger, a man
older than her,
noticed her anxiety.
'Are you doing all right?'
he sweetly asked.
'I’m okay,' she responded,
lightly nodding.
She right away liked 
his kind, soulful eyes.
He liked her hair,
how it spilled over her 
blouse that lay
open enough 
to reveal a hint of form.
'Nervous?' he said.
'A little...'
'Well, we've got good
weather today.
I'm sure we'll be fine.'
He smiled,
his twinkly brown eyes
mere inches from her blues.
She returned his gaze,
felt a warmth flood her
with each second they held it.
His arm lay on the rest,
his right leg lightly 
brushing against hers,
but she didn't flinch.
She felt comforted,
yet alarmed she didn't mind
the sudden intimacy
with this charismatic man.
He turned his attention
to his magazine.
She gently pressed her leg
against his,
and he glanced at her 
with wide eyes.
The plane started rolling.
She stiffened,
sat back,
held her breath.
He reached for her hand,
and interlaced his fingers 
through hers.

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