Chapter 4
Maybe I wouldn’t feel so bad if I could get out of my own head for a while. Since I was in a middle seat, I had two possible distractions, one on each side of me. Anyone cute? Uh…no. The one on the left made meaware I had stereotypical ideas of what a terrorist looked like. I won’t describe the person other than he was a man with a beard and dark eyes. Maybe even that would mark me as racist. I can’t help it; I’m human, and I read the news, okay? But I smiled, he sort of smiled, and I looked to the other side. A woman. She was dabbing at her eyes. I offered her a tissue.
Thinking of Merry, I said, “What’s wrong?”