The Stewardessen Breakfast Club

    Category: It’s 3 a.m. Somewhere

    • Sleeves.

      I know it’s not easy to be with someone like me–someone made of hearts and sleeves and temper. I’m not easy. Sometimes I wish I had a firmer grip on my wild, over-emotional, too-big-for-its-own-good, runaway heart. I’m sorry. This doesn’t come lightly. I don’t naturally wear my heart on my sleeve, but with you I…

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    • Night Travelling.

      On City Lights and Shooting Stars. Is it strange that I, as a flight attendant, most enjoy travelling when I am a passenger on board somebody else’s mode of transportation? And is it even stranger that my favourite time to travel is at night? Ever since I was a child I have enjoyed sitting in…

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    • The Kiss.

      I can still feel it, that first one. It started with your fingers slipping between mine, like two puzzle pieces falling into place, and everything cascading after them, unstoppable, rearranging the stars in a frenzied rush, finding new places to fall, your lips settling against mine and the night settling around us; infinity in a…

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    • Jumper Days.

      If you had held me close, I would have stolen your favourite jumper and worn it for a day at home; worn my favourite perfume at the same time. The one that smells of amber and orange blossoms; the one I wore to our first date; and that morning I picked you up from the…

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    • Hotel Beds.

      Still every hotel bed I come to is a bed I am not sharing with you. I crumple at the sight of twin pillows and…

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