"Over the river and through the wood," you mutter as the TSA line inches forward. "To Grandfather's house we go."
Belt flung over your shoulder, you hold your shoes in one hand and grip your waistband with the other. In front of you, a child peeks over her father's shoulder, smiles, and sneezes Cheerio debris. Your backpack gently slides down to the crook of your arm. "'Tis the season," you sigh.
You reach the gate just as they announce your flight has been canceled. The next is in 4 hours.
Michele Feltman Strider
npub1er…uwprr
2025-11-16 00:01:19 UTC
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2025-11-16 00:01:19 UTCEvent JSON
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