At LAX

At LAX. The crushingly emptiest of feelings. I am in the loneliest herd of cattle. Woman at fast food counter arguing that their medium isn’t medium enough. I exist solely to keep an eye on my bags at all times.

Radiohead’s “Let Down” plays in my head, a perfect soundtrack. “Someday I am gonna grow wings, a chemical reaction, hysterical and useless…”

Two pornstars in short shorts spice up the scenery. I neglect to mention how I know them.

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