P.S. Is it just me, or do you also feel like we never landed? My dreams are turbulent, my body rocking and falling like I’m still in the sky, sleeping among the clouds. Are we still up there, being dragged across hemispheres, airborne, afloat? There’s a disconnect between my mind and body, something inside me hasn’t told the rest of me that it’s the ground I feel beneath me and not an abyss.
My tongue still probes my mouth trying to suck the hard-boiled sweet, but it’s dissolved now. I can still taste the aeroplane food. How do they cook it, that high up? Wouldn’t the cabin pressure affect it in some way? Google says they need to add more salt, so the food is not too bland. I bet you already knew that – you know everything. I’m not bitter. It’s just a fact.
My ears haven’t popped yet, have yours? The pressure surmounts, but no relief. The space between my ears feels woolly, a crackling that spits and spikes me, a tormented ache that won’t fade. Perhaps my body is more sensitive than yours, you always say I’m a very sensitive girl.
The swelling in my ankles has deflated. Two bulbous plums they looked like, attached to the bottom of my carves. You saw them. Veiny and grotesque. I didn’t walk around enough on the plane. Wedged in between a stranger, I didn’t want to be an inconvenience, getting up all the time. How did you manage? Why is it always my body that can’t weather difficult conditions? Needless to say, I won’t be flying again anytime soon.
Victoria Bromley
Victoria (she/her) is a First Class BA Honours English Language and Creative Writing graduate from Lancaster University, now living back home in Cheshire. She is an editor and social media manager for the independent literary magazine Swim Press and aspires to progress into a career in publishing. Her writing has also appeared in Healthline Zine, Contemporary Jo, Bubble Magazine and SeaGlass Literary.