The Flight
A young woman gets on a small feeder plane in Peoria, a real old-timey number, a DC something, the aisle so steep that she has to grab on to the seats and pull her way up. The lights on the wall are pale yellow. “Smoking or no smoking?” The stewardess, flight attendant that is, laughs, because there is only one other passenger on the plane, a big bald-headed man.