August 28, 1987
Dear Diary,
I am on my flight to Dublin, from Stockholm.
Alone and sitting hear waiting to be onboard make me feel nothing. So i opened my bag beside my baggage and get my brown journal and started writing.
Im thinking what if the plane im in, will crash somewhere and that i will be no where to be found. Well, anyway, ive been living my life alone for 10years, thats not a problem of mine anymore. I look around, It was unusual, there are few people here in the airport. Im thinking, it might be because of the weather...
The weather is a bit gloomy, when i left my apartment
YOU ARE READING
The Last Women Found
RomanceThe normal life is full of surprises. An odd thinking is a delusional memory.
