Relevant Ambiguity

I bought the ticket with hesitance. The guy after me didn’t think. “He has friends there,” I thought. This necessitated an internal deliberation on the meaning of “friend,” and my conclusion did little to distract me from the dream betrayal in progress. I guess if I die and live a life like everyones’, I’ll be a part of something.

Hours into the journey I gave up on the window and began scanning the rows for a like mind – not that I would relate with them though. My type wouldn’t want to. Still, it would have been nice to have known she was present.

What else to do? Stare folk down and make them uncomfortable? Not enough energy. Sleep against the cold window? Too loud. Too bumpy. What is a friend really?

Writing my thoughts seemed to help clarify, so I wrote. Pages. I’m sure I looked intelligent to her. I guess intelligence wasn’t enough. In any case, I realized “friend” wasn’t the debate, and “home” was a much more relevant ambiguity. It was then that my friend interrupted me.

“Where you headed?” she asked.

“Same as you, I guess,” I said with my intelligent/confident smile and eyebrow movement combo. Then the questions kept coming and I kept eating the attention. Eventually I ate her and it was all over.