“Would you mind if she took your empty seat?” The stewardess said. “She has a phobia.”
“Oh.” Archie’s dimpled chin fell, then a smile broke above it. “Not at all.”
The little thing curled up beside him, clutching a slender case.
“Oh my. You’re–“
“Yes, I am. And you are, miss?”
“Maria Zetowsky. With the Philharmonic. On loan to London.”
“That’s your flute? Funny word, isn’t it? Flute.”
“I guess so.”
He held her hand. “Relax, and soon we’ll have flew to England.”
Sometimes Archie wished Cary Grant could hold his hand on long flights.
I wrote this for Lily Child’s Friday Prediction 100 word challenge. The three words to use were flute, arch, and phobia.
© 2011 Thomas Pluck