I’ve been sitting on the tarmac for two hundred years.
The plane has become little more than a rusted shell.
There are cracks in the wings and some of the rivets are missing. It’s a little draughty but it doesn’t really bother me. The view is stunning. From my seat I can see out from both sides of the craft. To the right, through a crack in the metal I can see a forest of green, magnificent to the eye. For as far as my vision will allow, I see nature at its best, there are trees and flowers, I can see people working with the land, a mutual acceptance. Children still play, adults still sing. To the left, though the cracked window, I see a traffic jam, frustrated drivers waving their fists at each other. There is no green. It has all gone. No animals.
No laughter. I sit in the shell I have made my home. I know which side I want to get out but the only exit is to my right. Therefore I keep sitting. Maybe I will sit like this until the end of time. A man bangs on the window. I have seen him before. He wants to come in.
He says he has a right. A woman approaches him through a haze of smoke and drags him backwards. I watch as they disappear amongst a crowd of faceless beings. ‘Are you happy?’ I shout at the top of my voice. The mass of people to my right shout back. ‘Of course we fucking are, what more could we want?’
The people on my right look confused and say ‘We don’t understand the question’.
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