No1Writes

Close your eyes, love

Pretend you’re flying, love

I don’t have to speak Portuguese to know that you and that other flight attendant are fucking. The way he smiled at you- while teaching us how to slip the metal hook up and release ourselves from our seats, said it. The way you tried but failed to ignore it- while pretending to breathe through a bag that hid your smile and wouldn’t inflate, confirmed it. He let you take the snack cart. So you wouldn’t have to ask people what they wanted- only hand them nut-infested, rock-hard bread and wait for their hands or their heads to move in a familiar direction. He did the drinks. Back bends, ear to the windows trying to sift through accents and please the thirsty foreigners. You laugh about it by the bathrooms. Pretending not to wait for him. Deciding not to stare at him as he bore your burdens. He grabbed your face with hands that smelled of vino rioja when he finished. He didn’t think it through so you told yourself to make nothing of it. You took too long in the bathroom and it smelled sweeter when I entered so I know you used the space to smile, pretty yourself again, imagine what could happen when you landed, wish the flight would never end.  

I nearly peed myself as you dreamed of him.

Be considerate. And, Make him treat you well.