Getting Away

Throw a bunch of words in a hat, pull one out, and write a story using that word.

This week’s word: FLY


A week ago, not even, three days and already it’s gone. That feeling, relaxing, rejuvenation, a weekend trip, out of town, troubles away, relax and be free and already it’s gone. How she wishes she could get away, really get away, from her job and her life, her friends and her family and strangers and everything. Away to a magical place, where problems don’t exist, where there’s no stress or difficulty or heartache or fear. Like in a magazine, a tropical paradise, palm trees hanging over the shore, crystal blue water out at sea and clear skies in the air, margaritas and bikinis and everyone is smiling, happy, not a care in the world.

Fuck it, she’s going. It’s her lunch break and no turning back. Goodbye work, goodbye customers and especially her boss, goodbye family and problems and all that’s going on. Goodbye everything. In her car, heading south, driving forever, until the road is no more. Through the valley, over the hill and through the city, leaving everything behind. To Mexico, Baja, where the sun shines bright and everyone is free, happy and beautiful, with no worries, no problems, no fear.

Her phone vibrates, intruding on her escape down the freeway. Her boss no doubt, pulling her back, calling her in, lunch now extending past half an hour. Where are you? Get back in here. She can picture the store, lines out the door and no one is there, she isn’t there and so no one is there, no backup, no one to man the registers, run the store. He must be furious.

And now she’s thinking about it. Thinking about it and she can’t do this. What is she even doing? How’ll she make money, how’ll she survive, how’ll she even get there, in her beat up old Honda, sputtering fumes, ready to die any minute. Reality, overcoming her dreams, her escape and she can’t just leave, abandon her work and her life, her family missing her, and her friends, they don’t deserve that. No, she can’t. She wishes she could but she can’t. She just can’t.

She pulls over to think. Don’t answer the phone, let voicemail handle that anger and wrath. Send a text instead: “Sorry. Feeling sick. Think I got food poisoning at lunch. Be back tomorrow.” Dodged that bullet, rationality and sense now weighing in. A good excuse, he can’t do anything about that. “Don’t bother” he replies, and what an asshole he is, firing someone over food poisoning. But she knows he doesn’t mean it, she’ll show up tomorrow and keep up the ruse and she’ll be fine. This isn’t the first time he’s fired her. Isn’t the first and won’t be the last, she knows that.

But one day, one day it will be. She really will leave, hop on a plane and never look back. An LAX plane, flying around the world, she’ll fly away and leave this city, leave her troubles, far as she can. The LAX planes, flying overhead, filled with people who’ve escaped, escaped their lives, going somewhere new. Leaving forever, for something better, and one day she will too. She’ll save up her money and find a good deal, quit her job, say goodbye to everyone and everything, and she’ll leave. Go somewhere tropical and new, where everyone is happy and there’s no stress or disease, no family weighing her down, no jobs ruining her life. Nothing, just peace and tranquility, for her, forever. One day she’ll achieve that. One day. One day.


About Gabriel Bruskoff
I make movies! See for more information.

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