Inside My Head

the literary rantings of Angie Frissore

“I don’t need to sleep; I don’t even need to breath…”

I struggled though the crowd of passengers as I hauled my overtired body down the jet way, desperately trying to maintain the last bit of physical energy I had left for the second leg of my trip.  I had barely managed to squeeze in roughly two hours of sleep, and even though I had showered and prepared myself, I was sticky with sweat and wishing I hadn’t worn my beat up Sox hat.

As hordes of people rushed by me, I walked almost in slow motion through the terminal, paying more attention to my cell phone than to my surroundings.  Once a signal was found, my phone sounded the ever-familiar alert that I was hoping for.

1 new message.  It was from The Coworker.

I really hope I get to see you when you come home.

I made no attempt to hide the sleepy smile that crept across my face as I came to a stand still in the middle of the terminal.

But of course, I texted back.  I can’t wait.

I was hoping to hear from him, but had prepared myself to not be let down if there was no immediate communication.  After all, I had bigger things to focus on for the time being.  I was headed to Sacramento to meet my new niece for the first time.  There was, however, an underlying suspicion over the issue of follow up from The Coworker: I had behaved myself.  Torn between self-pride and fears of being labeled an unworthy prude, I tried to remain positive and hope that he was better than that.

I certainly had wanted to misbehave.  It would have been so easy; the two of us in my room, sharing a joint, listening to some music in the quiet lateness of the early, early morning.  But now…now I had the assurance that the sexual tension would simply grow until it eventually overtook us both.

Sighing, I made my way over to the gate’s service booth purely out of curiosity’s sake.

“Hi there,” I said, wearily.  “Do you happen to have any upgrades available for the 710 to Sacramento?”

“Let me just check on that,” stated a very well put-together woman in her late thirties, smiling happily.  “We sure do, I can put you in business class for forty dollars.”

“You just made my day,” I said, relieved. “Let’s do it.”

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November 21, 2008 - Posted by | No Messages - Excerpts from the Draft | , ,

3 Comments »

  1. this one is cool.

    Comment by van | November 24, 2008 | Reply

  2. Do you want the text messages in italics?

    Comment by Mike | December 13, 2008 | Reply

  3. crap….damn formatting. Thanks again!

    Comment by Angela Frissore | December 13, 2008 | Reply


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