Going Through The Motions

..one..

{say herro to tessa ^^ prease n goodbai}

"I love you, sweetheart, have a great time!" My mother sobs as I enter the plane terminal. 'It'll only be a month. Just a month, mom.'

I just wave, not wanting to attract more attention than my mother's sobs already have. The flight attendant smiles at me and takes my flight ticket. Then she rips a corner off and signs a line below the fine print. She hands the ticket back and I look over it.

Theresa Goode. Age 18. Female. Born January 4, 1996. Flying to San Francisco, California from Dulles, Washtingon D.C. Flight time 4:30 am to 12:45 pm. Seat number 32A. 'I hope I get a window seat, I hate aisle seats.What if this is a three seater plane? Ew.'

"Hello, I'm Shirley, and I'll be the one guiding you from terminal to terminal, okay?" The flight attendant introduces herself. I nod. Shirley has a short blonde bob and light blue eyes. She reminds me of Barbie with a nineteen thirties haircut.

"So, San Francisco, huh?" She asks. I nod again. "Fun. My daughter lives in San Frisco. She's a graduate at.."

I tune her out as I find my seat in second class. 'Shut up, shut up, shut up, no one cares. Shut up, shut up, shut up.'

".. and that's where she met her husband. Quite the romantic, really, he always brought her flowers. Still does," Shirley rambles. "Oh, this is your seat," she adds. I read the number above the seats and do a silent victory dance. 'Window seat. Also, it's only a two seater.'

"Okay, honey, if you need any help at all, just press this button," Shirley says as she points to a garish red button on the ceiling above the seats. I nod and rifle through my food stocked purse until I find my earbuds. Then I put them in and plug the end into my phone. I press play and mouth along to I Write Sins Not Tragedies by Panic! At The Disco. I watch everyone around me stuff their bags into the overhead compartments and flinch every now and then as some people drop their bags on the floor. 'Idiots. Every single one of them.'

I direct my attention to my phone and pull up my instagram. I scroll through my feed, liking and commenting on most photos. Then I go to my profile page and post a picture from my camera roll. After that, I pull up Twitter and scroll through my feed, liking and retweeting most tweets. I don't usually tweet anything, so I'm always confused about why I have over seventeen thousand followers. 'Maybe it's the things I retweet.'

Someone plops down into the seat next to me, making me jump. I look up to see a teenaged boy, maybe my age, maybe older, looking back at me. I frown. 'Why are you staring?'

"Hi, I'm Harry."

I can't hear him over my music, but I can read lips pretty well. I don't bother to pause my music, but I do take one earbud out. He extends his hand and I look down at it. 'What are you wanting me to do?'

"Okay, well. What's your name?" He asks. He has a nice sounding voice, which surprises me since I don't really like the sound of anyone's voice. But his is deep and gravelly and has what sounds like a British accent. "Do you have a name?"

I lift an eyebrow at him. 'I'm guessing he isn't too bright.'

"Shit, sorry, of course you have a name." Harry runs his fingers through his hair and sits back in his seat. I pinch my lips together and put my earbud back in. Then I lift the window cover and stare into the morning darkness. I can barely make out the shapes of a few people walking around, a few pushing a heavy cart that probably holds the plane's fuel, and some more waving green and red lights at other planes. I look at the airport building and try to spot my mother in the window. But, even if it were daylight, I won't be able to see her because the windows are tinted too dark. I'm sure she's waving at my plane like a spaz. 'I love you, Mom.'