she plays with her fingers, twisting and turning them in her lap to distract herself from noticing and remembering where she is right now— which is on a plane. her eyes, nearly the color of an ashy rose gold, slowly peer left to look out the window. she sighs absentmindedly as she looks out at the sky and clouds. they have always grounded her to this planet, but no place has ever really made her feel like she belonged there. the clouds extend across and cover the entire sky — of what she’s able to make out from her window. there’s a lavendar-pink glaze casted over the white puff-like formations as the calm, mid-day blue sky has started to shift towards a early-evening purple hue. it’s not that she’s scared of flying, no, it’s that she’s scared of looking out the window and realizing that she is finally free; and then realizing that she is also all alone. but that’s what happens when you haven’t planted your roots in a town or city or home or people or a person, you are free to be whatever and whoever you want. and that is both petrifying and intoxicatingly exhilirating.