Ripple clouds

They board the aircraft with bags and backpacks, and settle in their seats. Weighed down with daily needs, bodies fidget with reminders of hunger, desire, an unpaid bill, a tiny spark of nerves when the door seals shut.

As the plane noses up through storms and rain, earth-bound appetites scatter, and passengers grip their armrests for relief. At thirty-thousand feet the flight evens out. Through the cabin’s windows, sky unfurls shadow-singed clouds that ripple from wing to horizon. For a moment, the trick of forever holds everyone in silence.

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