jet fuel wafting through the air. I stood by the check-in counter, the pounding of my heart a mix of excitement and anxiety beating in my chest. My small suitcase was

of it terrified me. "As ready as I'll ever be." He chuckled and handed me my boarding pass. "First stop, Paris. Can you believe we're actually doing this?" " No, I can't," I whispered, brushing his hand with mine as I took the pass. It was almost dreamlike to me. Alex's gaze softened. He reached out to squeeze my hand. "It is, Emma. We're doing it." I smiled at him, the

d, maybe." His warm fingers traced soothing circles against my skin as he grabbed my right hand; "We will take everything step by step. And if you feel like sleeping or just having a break, you just need to say so." My chest ached with how good he was and how little he knew what he has committed himself to. I wanted to tell him, needed to tell him, but the words found themselves caught in my throat, too afraid and guilty to be let loose. Before I could gather enough courage, the boarding

e responded, bending closer as if to whisper very closely, "And if we happen to get lost in the middle of Paris, I will just say it is your complexities and personality that forced that to happen and nothing else." I laughed and gestured to hit him on the arm. "Anyway, I am good with maps." He looked down at the floor. "You're probably the one to follow the whim of any musician and leave me behind." "You are guilty," he admitted, letting his eyes dance;) "but I promise to remain around; I cannot allow you to get lost without me." The

ggested. I feigned to concur, and after his eyelids dropped down, I noted they were shut down. Furthermore, there was no way I was going to sleep. My feelings were clouded by whirlwind thoughts, and there was no way I could possibly sleep. Therefore took out my book and with no idea in mind, I drew the plane's wing against the cloud. How beautiful: nearly a symbol of Juliette's dream, having a whole sky for the wings and flying forward on the unknown. From the corner of my eye, I could see Alex's breath deepen, but all that Socrates could say about that w

ure out what it all meant. He deserved to understand the facts and then decide if he still wanted to be connected to it. I just didn't grasp how to tell him; how to crush the fantasy we were living with the cold and inscrutable truths. I shut my sketchpad as the wings straightened, laying my head against the cool glass of the and clinging