It was either late night or early morning. Jet lag and nervous energy stopped me being sure. I couldn't face the city yet, so I was in the hotel closest to the airport. I sat at the bar, and watched the jets swooping down towards the runway. Each time they passed over the hotel, the bar shook, and the bottles on the shelves did a little dance. The ice in my tumbler shook and chimed. It was just me, my coffee, and my book.
|The Strangest People by T.E. Hodden|