The Ticketman

"One way ticket to Detroit, please."

As the words passed my lips I began twiddling my thumbs with awkward nervousness. I rarely ever left my appartment, let alone ever been on a plane before. I glanced up at the woman at the desk. Her blond hair was wrapped into a tight bun, and there were dark circles under her piercing blue eyes. She was staring at me, like she was waiting for a reply.

"Wait, what?" I asked, confused.

"I said, 'Detroit, Michigan?'"

"Oh. Uh, y-yeah," I studdered.

She sighed in annoyance and began rapidly typing on the computer in front of her, her long, pointed nails clacking loudly on the keys. She sighed again, and looked up at me.

"The only flight leaving for Detroit today is at 3:00pm. That's in 10 minutes. The flight is almost booked though; luckily there's one spot left. Is that okay, sir?"

"Yeah, uh, sure." I replied.

"Good." She replied sourly. She handed me the ticket, and I handed her the crumpled dollar bills that had been stuffed into my pockets from that morning. I stiffly began walking back near the entrance of the airport and fell into one of the waiting chairs with a sigh, dropping my dark brown suitcase beside me. I ran my fingers through my shaggy brown hair. I needed a haircut. My eyelids began to feel heavy; I hadn't realized how tired I was. Telling myself I would only doze off for a few minutes, I let my eyes slowly shut and my mind enter a calming darkness.

"Sir! Sir! Wake up!"

I felt someone shaking my arm. I woke up with a jolt and looked around me, wide-eyed. I looked up and saw a little girl, about 10 years old, looking down at me with big brown eyes.

"Wh-what time is it?" I asked her, panicking.

"It's 3:00pm, on the dot! Isn't that your flight, mister?" Her finger pointed at the entrance to Flight 22. The doors were about to close. I jumped up, and started frantically looking for my suitcase. "Here's your suitcase, mister," the little girl said, grinning, handing me my luggage. I mumbled a thank you and began to sprint toward the doors. I glanced at my watch; it was 3:01pm. I threw myself through the doors and tripped on the ramp leading to the plane's entrance. Picking my suitcase up again, I stumbled onto the plane, my chest heaving. I turned around and looked through the glass into the inside of the airport. I saw the little girl, waving goodbye with her right hand and clutching a dark brown suitcase with her left. I glanced down at my left hand and saw my suitcase, and I let out a calm sigh of relief. I smiled, and waved back. Then I entered the plane.

As I looked out onto the flight cabin, a chilling uneasyness crept up on me. I didn't know why; maybe it was the amount of people on this very large plane, or how they all seemed to look the same. Or maybe it was that each and every one of them was staring at me with large, glassy eyes.

I stood there for what seemed like hours until I felt a hand on my shoulder, snapping me out of my trance. I spun around.

"Ticket, please, if you would be so kind." The voice belonged to a man in about his 30's, with a bushy brown mustache attached to his upper lip. I stared at him for a second, scanning his professional-looking white coat with a red tie. I heard his black shoes tapping against the floor as I reached into my pocket and pulled out my ticket. I handed it to him. He yanked it out of my hand and examined it, his eyebrows furrowing as I began twiddling my thumbs again. He finally met eyes with me and leaned into my face, making me uncomfortable.

"Listen here, boy, I don't play games," he said. His breath smelled sickeningly sweet, like cherry-flavored medicin.

"But I didn't do anyth-"