Return Flight

The squabble of the average men and women around me is loud enough that the rumbles of the jet engines are drowned. In the midst of this shrill environment, the imaginary buzzing that’s reverberating off my eardrums is still the loudest sound around. The scents of fast-food waft towards me, as sweat-doused people and petrol also reach my nose. But my brain conjures up a much more appealing aroma; a perfume of cinnamon mixed with the commonly male muskiness. A fragrance of perfection that I long for, especially when I know that it is so close. I never knew that anticipation could have this effect on me as my mouth becomes bland and bone-dry. However, I struggle to see if i can taste him. In disappointment, I realise that my mind is not strong enough to master this sense. I can remember though. His lips taste of cherry, while his warm breath is nothing but mint. Now, with my emotions in such a web; I long to touch my man. Yet, all I can feel is the rough shoves of people who are in a hurry and a slight breeze on my skin as I step past an open door that leads straight onto the tarmac. My body is tingling in a way that reminds me of a static shock. The electricity is hovering over my skin as my patience disappears. I am much too agitated for my own liking as I see a white and red 747 land swiftly on the runway. I’m at the front of the restless crowd, staring down a dark, endless corridor. Everything around me disappears and the only sense of mine still working is my sight. I can’t wait to see him again.
(289 words)