#22

If she had never seen someone sniffing cocaine before, she would not know what the woman in first class was doing. The French tipped pinky nail lingering a moment too long right below her pink nostril, the heaving inhale followed by sharp sniffs, the refusal to look anyone in the eye as she brought her hand down into her pocketbook and then did the whole dance again—all these actions happened in a matter of seconds. Once she had found her seat in coach and a moment to consider what she had seen, she could not stop imagining the nose of the airplane sucking up a long line of white powder down the runway as it took off into the harsh beclouds skies.