NW 220

The engines began to accelerate, and I was pulled into my seat. More than an hour since I'd first sat down, it seemed we were on our way. No power failure, emergency lights, hot air through conditioning vents, and a return to the bay would prevent us from taking off. Palms flew past the window. A golf course of green, and that familiar aquamarine. Yellow lines, painted on the pavement. Incline. Shadow. Airborne.

* * * *

Just a few of my favorites (out of 2,172). It was well worth it.