Postcards From Vegas
Monday: The airplane window is cool against my forehead. I know the vast expanse of black below is the desert and I wish it were light outside so I could see it. The inky void gives me the same sick, small feeling as the ocean. Little lights and street grids emerge and suburbia unfolds. Then tall buildings and flashing lights, a frenzy of color. Vegas looks just like the movies. The airport is a hive, even at 11 pm. It’s actually 2 am for me, and I’m resisting the urge to whine about getting into bed. I’ve never done tired…
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