Every day she put on the same clean deep blue uniform

Her peroxide stained hair tied back in a bright blue bow.

Her shoes, highly polished, reflected her deeply tired face

As she sees tears streaming causing mascara to run

Down on her cheeks which she lets drop to the floor.

The bus takes her everyday to the airport

Where she waits for her plane to take off.

The panic sets in just before

Take off

As she screams inside her head, the image always there,

As the plane gets delayed time and time again.

Outside on the runway the grounded steel bird

Is always one attendant short.

She never was the same after that day

When she swapped shifts with her sister

Just so she could go on a date, the first in months.

Halfway through the date her phone rang

Sighing dramatically she answered, smiling at the man

Only to hear her sister say goodbye and I love you.

She started to cry once more at the repeating memory

As she got onto the bus, another day not at work.

Ian D. Hall 

First published in Greyhound Tales.