After showing the stewardess my ticket, I walked through that rickety, terrifying, God-forsaken tunnel, finally releasing my breath as I stepped onto the plane. The dreaded tunnel from the gate to the plane always made me fearful of it collapsing, with me in it. Shaking off my irrational fears I began walking down the aisle, looking for my seat.
3D...7D....11D......18D.....Ahh, 24D.
Tossing my duffle in the overhead compartment, I slid into the window seat and stuffed my back pack by my feet. After about another hour,we were finally in the air, and my mind was back at ease. Relaxing, I pulled my notebook back out and continued to stare at this oddly familiar face. I had drawn a man, who appeared to be in his 40's. He had ebony black hair that was full of curls, and unnerving emerald green eyes. As I continued to stare into the transfixing eyes I noticed slight flecks of brown, causing an overall appearance of perfection. I found myself thinking, Get a grip Skye, just because he looks familiar doesn't mean anything. Goodness, for all you know, you could've met him at the grocery store!
Trying to move my mind to a more pleasant subject, I pulled out my music, again, and slowly drifted into a light slumber.
YOU ARE READING
A Week in Paris (with You)
RomansaAll Skye wanted to do was visit the city, experience the culture, buy some souvenirs, and find her purpose in life. What she got was not what she had bargained for, but, in the end, might be just what she needed.
