In Which The Passenger Consults the Menu While a Drama Unfolds Below by Bridget J. Daly

The condensation outside the window next to seat 24a of the Boeing 747 resolved itself into a drop of water. Plunging downwards it was delayed by a small cloud, on its slow meandering way. Slithering through, the drop collected more weight and gathered more speed. Earthwards it flew, glancing off the beak of a tired wild goose on its annual migration, nearly scattered by a high-flying bee. Pinging off the church spire, dribbling off a sycamore leaf, it foundered, vaporising on a poppy petal, the opiate of forgetfulness. Up above, in seat 24a, he wondered if he should take the vegan or the vegetarian option for lunch and if either would help to save the planet from extinction.

Bridget J. Daly lives in North London with a husband, son and black and white cat. She is a museum tour guide who enjoys trying to write flash fiction.

Photo by Rostyslav Savchyn on Unsplash

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