Coffee & Conversation

When the woman stood up to let me pass, the first thing I noticed were her brown docs—the same color and design as my own.

Next, I clocked her bangs: grayer than mine but equally choppy. As we settled in for the three-hour flight to Minneapolis, we simultaneously reached into our bags to retrieve our kindles. No one else was in our aisle.

She extended her legs to the right, I leaned against the plane window. I felt a fondness growing for her—this woman who was also traveling alone, also traveling with the same three essentials (boots, book, & bangs).

When the flight attendant came around for drink orders, I asked for water and a coffee. The woman said, “I’ll have what she’s having.” I felt our fondness become mutual. The flight attendant asked if we wanted cream and sugar; the woman said yes and I followed her lead.

Packets were handed to the woman who handed them to me. Coffee and water were passed to the woman who placed them gently on my tray table. We made eye contact for the first time as I thanked her. Her wrinkles grew as she grinned.

The woman and I set about pouring cream and rearranging our tray tables amidst this assortment of drinks and kindle cases. I noticed her stirring her cream into her coffee before she asked, “Would you like to use this as well?”

She smiled at me and clutched a thin black object that was, upon closer inspection, the arm of her eyeglasses—greasy in the center with brown coffee droplets trickling off the tip.

“Uh, I think I’ll just blow on mine, thanks.” The woman rescinded her arm, rejected.

I leaned back as well, shifting my body towards the window. She pulled out her phone; I turned my music up, closed my eyes, and feigned sleep for the rest of the flight.