Tired and nauseous by the early hour we throw our bags into the trunk. Speeding past the street
lamps and whirling by the cars I shutter. I can see my breath as we wait for the shuttle. The
terminal lights burn my eyeballs. We stand in line with the others and inch through security and
then down the jet bridge, a strange little dance. I sit down gratefully and close my eyes. When I
open them again, I will be far away and the sun will be up and my day will start a second time in
a second city.

Rachel Turney is an educator and teacher trainer in Colorado. Her poems and prose are published (or are in press) in The Font Journal, Nap Lit, Pulp, Ranger, Through Lines, Blink Ink, Bare Back, The Hooghly Review, and Teach Write Journal. Her photography appears in Writers Resist, The Salt, San Antonio Review, Umbrella Factory Magazine, Vagabond City, Dipity, and Ink in Thirds Magazine. Her artwork appears in Cosmic Daffodil. Blog: turneytalks.wordpress.com Instagram: @turneytalks