Captain Compost was waiting behind me in the aisle.
He gave me a long, furious look.
I smiled politely.
"Have a nice evening."
He didn't answer.
He gave me a long, furious look.
His shoes were on.
His socks were nowhere in sight.
That was good enough for me.
At the aircraft door, the teenage girl and her mother were waiting for the line to move.
His socks were nowhere in sight.
The girl turned around.
"Hope your next flight's better."
I adjusted the strap of my bag.
"I'll settle for less laundry."
She burst out laughing.
"Hope your next flight's better."
Her mother shook her head, smiling.
I stepped into the terminal and smoothed the hair those socks had brushed.
Then I headed toward baggage claim, grateful that my luggage was the only thing I'd have to collect.
I stepped into the terminal and smoothed the hair those socks had brushed.
