By Cristina Zabalaga. Translated by Lois Baer Barr.
Published in Palabras Errantes.
I am incapable of sleeping during the flight.
I am furious. Just furious.
So mad that nothing can distract me.
Not the tight ass on the flight attendant who manages to graze against my hand every time she passes, not the stupid movies that have me in stitches and that I don’t usually see with my wife because she doesn’t like them.
I don’t see anything without content, she says acting importantly.
She’s a snob though she doesn’t like to admit it.
Today I’m not in the mood for such things either.