"No matter your problems, face them with a bright smile and a bucket of chocolate ice-cream," nana once wisely told me. At the time, I was barely twelve and thought that I could summon a unicorn if I just believed in myself.
A decade later, despi...
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Maeva's point of view.
How in the world could that freakin' purse of mine strategically land on a human's foot? I mean, even if I spent hours calculating the perfect angle from which I was to drop it, it would've never been such a perfect landing. I just hope the guy did not lose a toe because I'm pretty sure that a crack echoed in my ears when my book collection smacked the life out of his foot.
Before I even get the chance to apologize, passengers begin exiting their seats, and my worst nightmare slowly creeps into real life. Herds of people chocking the passages manage to disrupt the quiet atmosphere that was once reining, and air becomes a whole lot heavier to inhale.
Behind me, a bunch of men struggle to get their luggage out of the overhead lockers, which makes me wonder how they even shoved all those bags in the first place. Kids scream and nag at their parents who keep shushing them while rolling their eyes at the long line leading to the exit of the aircraft.
After dozens of "excuse me"s, endless "may I pass"s and one "ma'am you're stepping on my foot", I finally pace out of the exit door and make sure to fill my lungs with as much air as humanly possible before stepping into the jet bridge.
Although it is not that elevated from solid ground, fear stings me in the chest, and my head begins to sink further in between my shoulders as I take a peek through the glass walls. All at once, everything my eyes are scanning is being duplicated, and all of my freakin' brain cells seem to be out of service. Can someone please tell me what genius suggested to use see-through walls on a ten feet elevated tunnel?
I know it's pretty weird for me to freak out in the tunnel when I seemed pretty relaxed, ten minutes earlier, in a flying can, forty thousand feet above solid ground. That was because I distracted my coward self with a book... and also made sure that I got a seat in the middle of the plane, as far as I could possibly be from the windows or any opening for that matter. Humans are not supposed to be floating around with clouds and pigeons, for crying out loud!
Once safe and sound on solid ground, I'm tempted to go down on my knees and plant a kiss on the dusty ground. I settle for a mental one, nonetheless, since passengers seem to be close to calling the mental asylum if I dare and make another scene.
Tapping my foot on the ground, and creating a beat to try and distract myself from the interminable wait, I stand before the luggage belt, eyes searching for any red suitcases. Nearly half of the passengers from earlier take their belongings before I spot a humongous red body and smile at the sight of it sliding its way towards me. Although I almost displace my shoulder while dropping it off on the ground, I cannot help but grin at the thought of finally leaving this hell hole.
Poke... What the hell is wrong with people today? Is it the national -poking the living daylight out of Maeva- day?
I can almost feel smoke dissipating from my nostrils, and an eyeroll is mandatory for me to relieve some of the stress building up in my body. However, I utter neither word nor sound for the holes dug in my back from all the previous glares still hurt, and the last thing I want to do is go all Hulk-mad on another elderly. Hence, I turn around in the speed of a sloth on a quiet afternoon, and look at whoever it is that graced me with the delicateness of his undesired touch.
