TITLE: Raptor Snatch
GENRE: Commercial fiction
The window smells like sweet vomit with a hint of pine scented ammonia. I was already nauseated when I boarded the plane – my stomach full of overcooked bacon, and undercooked eggs. My attempt to drown them in coffee as bitter as my ex hadn't remedied the situation. The noxious vapours radiating from the window don't help matters either. You can't force me to call what I choked down 'breakfast.' I hope that my only souvenir from this town won't be food poisoning. My mouth starts watering, but not in a good way. I swallow hard, and breathe shallowly.
Blending with the puke scented aroma of the window on my right, is the smell of the man sitting on my left. Stale sweat, stale cigarette smoke, stale coffee breath, I wonder if his life is as stale as he smells. Even his suit looks defeated – the fabric starting to wear thin on his elbows and knees, the material becoming shiny where the rest of him is dull.
I am keeping my face in the sweet spot. Facing directly forward, the smell of the man and the window cancel each other out, and my nostrils are safe. I am in the eye of the smell.
From the eye of the smell I can see a chip in the plane's windshield. Strangely, this doesn't fill me with fear – on the contrary, the longer I look at it, the more reassured I feel.