My LooseLeafLife

Sponsored by Verizon. As I sit at the airport across from the charging station I look directly ahead of me. Sitting directly 10 feet in front of me is a very beautiful woman. She sits, her hand resting over the retractable handle on her cheap, Target-born luggage. Not even American Tourister. She looks about 26–or 36. It’s hard to tell these days. She is raceless. Her lavender fleece demures her slight, cute frame.  Probably Asian. Weird. Her phone charges as she sits, angled away from the station hunched and facing the passing crowds. Away from the mess the power outlets make. People huddle around them as if it’s a garbage can fire burning unsold streetwise newspapers. Somebody needs a fix. They stack over and snake around each other like the plugs and cables they withdraw from backpacks-with-wheels and gym bags. I wonder what she is thinking. “I’m hungry.” “He probably can’t wait to see me.” “Who the fuck is this stud looking at me, typing and sitting on the apron