we were flying across a bright black night, passing cities shimmering amber; shining clusters of light that somehow manage to mirror the millions of stars that hang above.
we stare out the window the whole ride, our mind humming in tune with the engine’s rumble. we’re left familiar with a memory of being a girl, looking through the glass to the vast night, wondering out loud if there really was someone for her. someone for each one of us.
we wonder less about it as we grow, the idea of it somehow having lost its importance and prevalance in our share of mind. the realist in us disbelieves the concept, chalked up to fairy tale (and perhaps another capitalistic theory we’ve yet to unravel).
yet there’s something about that jet plane that always saddens us. the idea of leaving love behind, returning to it, perhaps even flying over the potential of it. as we pass over shining cities, we can’t help but wonder – what if it’s true? what if it’s out there? what if it was you?