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He imagined what the meeting would be like1, and he cried. He hadn’t met her yet, and already he cried. Enough premature emotional ejaculation and he was fairly certain there would be no tears left to shed for the event itself.
He tirelessly rallied against the imperfections of others2 because he secretly harbored a grudge against the imperfections in himself.
He gazed out the tiny double-paned plastic porthole3, taking in the landscape below, ripples and folds in a great geological fabric.
Footnotes
1. I wrote this on an airplane last November, on my way to meet a woman I’d dated for seven months before finally going to meet her. I’m happy to report that the meeting went well, and we’re still together today <3
2. I’ve never done this myself, you understand. No, not once…
3. This I wrote the second time I was on an airplane three months later 🙂 Same destination.
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