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The Prophet 2.11

“Are ya’ all making these things smaller these days?” the man joked as one of the flight attendants moved forward to help. It was a soft bag, and after a few strategic shoves they were able to close the compartment door. The man looked around for someplace to put his 10-Gallon hat. Another flight attendant pointed to a small space in a compartment several rows back. However, the urban cowboy had no intention of having that much separation between himself and his hat. He shook his head and mouthed the words, “No. But thank you kindly,” exhaling as he took his seat next to Brig.

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Another prayer unanswered Brig thought sarcastically as he turned his head back towards his window, hoping to avoid conversation with this man. Although Brig was looking the opposite way, he could feel the man’s eyes surveying him, sizing him up, trying to find a way to introduce himself. He looked like a guy that liked to talk, or maybe Brig was just being his usual dick self.

Brig leaned his head against the bulkhead and closed his eyes as the aircraft began to taxi towards the runway. He was finally on his way back to Hong Kong. It had been more than ten years since he had last set foot in the “Fragrant Harbor.” He wondered how much it had changed.

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