Travel

Cool air in my face.

This is the way I prefer to travel. I’m in my own world, a cool breeze from the air-conditioner blowing in my face, fingers caressing my keyboard in musical world of my own. My eyes are closed. My wife is talking to her mother in the front seat. My father in law and daughter are watching a movie in the second row. Me? I’m sitting in the last row by myself. It has the least leg room of the three by far, but there’s a strange comfort to the place, scrunched up in personal bliss. My feet are crowded up under my seat, my knees at a higher elevation than my lap. My computer is elevated on my knees. My hands are right were they would be if they were in my lap, only the keyboard is in the way. I’ve got an hour to blow, so here we go!

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I'm sorry but I can't sum me up in this limited amount of space. No, I take that back. I'm not sorry.