the drum of the plane's wings overhead
made her heart pound. this wasn't just another
histrionic fit; the plane wouldn't crash nosefirst
into the paved runway, it's feet would
gently press into the ground and carry its passengers
delivering them like a baby swathed in cloth.
not catastrophizing again.
not again. the grass flickered beneath her
feet, a shimmer of film on the ground.
this would be the one time that things would
occur just as planned; the balloon would drift upward,
bursting into a million little pieces of sunlight,
and he would step through the haze.
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