Late last night I was flying home from Fort Worth. There’s a certain feel to a plane in those late-night hours, when most people are sleeping, when a few overhead reading lights shine down, when the plane is humming along at whatever ungodly speed planes fly. People talk in a whisper, if they talk at all. A baby cries, then quiets. Through the window I …
© 2025 Shawn Smucker
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