On the fly
Stuck in SFO as I write this; flight delayed. Someone has left a copy of the San Francisco Chronicle on the table that I’ve arranged myself at so I can fill the time by eating a sad, overpriced sandwich.
A table strewn with newspaper sections is already a quaint sight. Will be even quainter still when my baby daughter is grown. Think about taking a photo of her next to the papers; proof to show her when she is older that she was alive with it so I can show her when when newspapers still left your fingers ink-stained. Instead, I read the first page open to me – coupons for a sports store. Discounts on ‘tactical’ knives, ‘zombie’ air rifles, pump-action shotguns, crossbows, and sandals.