I felt the urge to donate my bones. The ones I didn't need so much, like some of the ones in my feet and one in my arm.
Because there was a severe need for alive bone.
And I always feel compelled to donate. Because I'm a bleeding heart. And I have more than I need.
So I did. And it turns out there's a long recovery time; my muscles needed to find new bones to reattach to.
For awhile I was kind of like a blob of a person.
In an airport. Or on my way into an airport.
Zack's there. And a couple of other people.
We're going somewhere.
It's raining outside.
The chick looking at my ticket is shocked to learn that I am older than she is. She could have sworn I was in high school.
We board the plane last. Find lame seats.
People step on my bag under the seat.