text: 7 hours Ten hours and I'll be back in Australia. I thought as I tried to get settled into my aisle seat. My time in Japan was amazing, but I was ready to go. I could only take so much of the food. I'd rather have my simple Aussie cuisine. After everything I'd gone through with Richard, with work, and the cancer treatments again: I was ready for a break. I chose to go somewhere foreign, where nearly everything would be different. I thought I'd give religion another try. It worked for so many other people. I saw Kiyomizu-dera, and all the more exclusive Buddhist temples Hana would take me to; she'd been a wonderful guide. I'd gained some spiritual solace, an appreciation for the world around me, and the things that have happened in my life. But I still felt an emptiness wherever I went. That's when I saw you. At first I thought, There's that stupid American who was lost at the counter. Then I thought, Just great! He is sitting right across the aisle. You smiled at me, and ended up bumping into the stewardess. I chuckled to myself at your embarrassment. Now I need to get to sleep, I thought. I closed my eyes and drifted off. An hour later the stewardess was back. I told her I'd take whatever dark tea she had. I crossed my legs to get comfortable. The young Japanese girl beside me hardly took up any room. I was ready to enjoy my tea when I heard you speak up. “I'll have whatever she is having," you said. Please don't talk to me, I thought. I put my headphones in to avoid anything you might say. Some 80’s space rock to help me relax. You looked at me, then guestured at the cup of tea you were given and gave me a questioning look. Something to the tune of “Why the hell would I order this?” I rolled my eyes at your childish attempt to get my attention, but I guess it worked. I picked up my own cup and you mimicked my motions, the way I held the cup, the way I sipped it. You made an exaggerated “yuck” face at me and frowned at your tea. I couldn't help but let out a chuckle. Your brown eyes lit up at the small victory you just made. I looked away to try and sour your triumph. I stayed that way for as long as I could. Turned away from you and continued reading my book, “As I Lay Dying”. I tried to focus on the book, but I was distracted by my own music, and from feeling your eyes on me. This went on for nearly an hour, until I was fed up with my slow progress. We just reached hour two of our flight. I sat up in my chair and you pretended not to notice. I decided a movie would kill time. As I went through the selections you were leaning nearly halfway into the aisle trying to see what I was choosing. You're lack of shame was impressive. I was determined to make a game of our interaction and win. I chose the sappiest love story I could find based on the description and the cover photo. I don't even remember what it was, something about a young couple dealing with a long distance relationship. I knew men hated chick flicks. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw you feign annoyance and choose the same movie. It was game on. The movie we watched was aweful, so cliche. I listened to the few times you laughed. It felt like you had won our little game, as you actually seemed to enjoy the movie. Then that cheesy sex scene made me blush. I'm such a prude sometimes. You laughed at me, and at the small seatback screen. After the movie was over you got in position to go to sleep. You had me worried that was the end of our little interaction. I also watched you when you slept. You looked older when you weren't smiling. The crows feet on your eyes gave away that you were probably pushing 45; so did your black hair, all dusted with gray. I tried to get some sleep myself. I woke up at the lunch announcement and found your eyes were on me. Instead of being on guard, I actually felt like a school girl who got winked at by her crush. Besides, I had watched you sleep so it was only fair. I ordered the vegetarian option. Again I heard you say, “I'll have whatever she is having.” I was excited for the meal. My salad was very good for airline food. Then you took my cheese wedge. I thought, You bastard! I had to get you back. I thought of reporting you to the stewardess but I didn't want them to move you. I decided to take your chocolate square and ate it before you could protest. You took a pen from inside your suit jacket and started writing on your napkin. “You owe me, Order wine", you wrote. I gave you a disapproving look. You just shrugged and pursed your handsome lips. “Red or white?”, I wrote back. Again you shrugged and pointed at me with both hands. Red, I decided. While we waited for the wine, really anytime we were waiting, you'd look forward and pretend to be deep in thought. Did it take you that long to make silly ideas or was that supposed to make me more interested in you? When the wine came, you gave me that school boy wink. Then you flipped the napkin over and began writing again. “Thank you (your name here)”, it said, with a silly little smiley face. I wrote you back. “Lorie” You cocked your head and quickly wrote back. “Not Sheila?” You surprised me with that one. “Jackass", I scoffed out loud and you feigned innocence then laughed. I threw the napkin back at you. “I'm Adam”, you wrote. I just nodded and acted bored. Now four and half hours into the flight you started looking through movies again. You chose an intellectual crime drama. A deliberate departure from my choice. I actually liked the movie, so the joke was on you this time. Since the waitress took our waste, you decided to write me a message on your phone. “This movie is boring”, you wrote. I rolled my eyes at you and tried to return to the film. You tapped on my shoulder. The first time we touched. You had written another message on your phone. “What is your story? Business or liesure?”, you wrote. “Liesure” , I wrote back. Not sure how much I wanted to disclose to you. You smiled and typed again. “Sushi?” “More like answers”, I wrote. I should have known you'd get nosey. You just looked at me and raised your hands, then passed the phone back. “Cancer", I wrote back. I had to look away. I was embarrassed. It felt like a mark of shame. I had only told my boss and my mother. Being breast cancer, it made me even less comfortable talking about it. Like I said, I can be a prude. When I wiped away my tears and worked up the courage to look back at you, you were sunken in your seat. You looked pitiful. I didn't know anyone cared about me. “Is it bad?”, you wrote. You were anxious. I bit my lip and nodded. I am sorry I cried. I think it made you feel worse. I wrote you a message on the phone. “What about you? Business?” When you took the phone from my hands you squeezed my fingers. It made me feel better. “Business," you said out loud. I was surprised at the change in our communication. “I don't want to waste your time with this," you said, holding up your phone. “It's ok. I'm still stuck on this flight." I smiled at you and you smiled back, but I could see you were still unsettled. "You're really nice, you don't deserve that. Anyway, I should do some work. Sorry for taking up your time." you said. “Yeah. I've got my book.” I said back to you. The announcement was made that dinner would be served shortly. The next announcement was the pilot shouting to brace for impact. It was aweful, it was so terrifying. Just before we hit the water I heard you say my name, and I saw fear in you eyes. They are still unsure of what happened. The airline and the police. Your side of the plane impacted first, and nearly every passenger on that side died. I spent a few days in the hospital. I only had a minor concussion, and some bruises and scrapes. The worst part was the endless reporters and the lawyers. I didn't care. I waited, watching the news for the passenger names announcement. It only took an hour to find your social media profiles: Adam Middler. I admit I stalked your digital profiles for a few hours, soaking up every bit of your life that was open to me. I contacted your wife. I'm sorry, I know. I was not surprised to learn you were going through divorce. She was not a very pleasant woman. I wish for your sake that your two boys have a good life. If I had any maternal instincts I probably would seek them out. It's been a month now. I'm back with Richard. He is sweet, he's just boring and a bit arrogant. I still haven't told him about the cancer. The treatments seem to be slowing it down, but probably not enough. I wish I would have- Lorie shut her laptop quickly when she heard Richard's voice. “Lor! Bloody hell Lor, come to bed. It's nearly midnight!” Richard called from the bedroom. “Just a minute Rich!” she called back. She opened her laptop, and continued writing. I should probably go. Most days I wish I had died with you on that plane Adam. In those seven hours I felt more alive than I have my whole life. I laughed, I cried, I feared, and I loved. I miss you Adam. This cancer is taking too damn long.