She sat very still as the aircraft rumbled awake with the deep trills and whirs of a giant whale in the ocean. The plane angled upward until its nose parted the clouds. The foot of the man behind her poked her in the ankle every couple of minutes. She had half a mind to suddenly lean her seat backward in a sad attempt to smash the man in the nose. Instead, she turned on her right cheek to watch the rows of people wandering in and out of various states of consciousness.

A black woman in her mid-thirties had just finished reading a chapter in her book. She turned off the overhead light, placed the complementary headphones over her ears, and leaned back in relaxation. Struggle thought to herself, Is she listening to the same station as I am? The woman's eyes remain closed, channeling meditation. Yes, I think that she must be.

A bleached blond slept with her mouth wide open. Another woman with dyed red hair had propped her feet up, displaying and accenting the strange bony protrusions by her big toe.

A few hours passed, and she kept herself busy by watching the people walk to and from the cramped lavatories. A man with glasses frequented, seeming to enjoy feeling the thin carpeting with only his socks on. A mother took her son, and when she returned Struggle could see the heavy mole by her left eye. Otherwise she would have been a normal middle aged woman, but now, now she left Struggle hoping that somewhere, the father was waiting with a bouquet of daffodils in hand.