Ladies

I’m sat down in a comfortable seat, at a café in the airport. I’m staring at a vending machine, challenging it with my fixed glance. It doesn’t squirm, or fidget or shrink. It just stands firmly, staring back at me. 

As of now, I think I’m just as strong as the vending machine. My lungs are powerful and my heart is wise. My head is rooted in and not roaming around directionless like a plastic bag being blown about here and there by the wind.

But don’t be disillusioned, dear readers. I never know when the bell will drop and trap me again. Or if it already has.