:: manuscript :: decipher :: view :: time :: pass ::
If he ran, he might still be able to make his connection.
It took a moment to decipher the Arrivals and Departures board; the letters seemed skittish after hours of coach class myopia. He tried to wait patiently for a short, dark haired family to pass in front of him before breaking into a jog, but they swarmed rather than ambled. He tried not to cuss as he pushed his way through their human ocean, but some things just can't be helped.
If he made his connection, he could finish the read-through on the plane.
The manuscript wasn't exactly bad, but it would need a complete revision. There were so many long, meandering sentences that it didn't matter whether or not the heavy dystopian narrative was even plausible. He counted four semicolons in one paragraph alone. That might not have been quite as off-putting if it hadn't been a two sentence paragraph introducing the author's concept of time travel, but it was and so it was. Still, a kernel was there. That didn't always happen.
If he finished the read-through, he could draft a response as soon as he got home.
The house would still carry the scent of Sarah's shampoo and he'd have to open the windows before he could concentrate. He'd seen her face every day while he was at the conference, but the flat screen of his smartphone didn't carry with it the multi-dimensional reality of her crooked nose or enormous feet. There, among her things – their things – he'd have to stay focused and not curl like a babe into a Sarah-scented bed. He had to get an email back to Meredith before Sarah got home, so they could start their weekend unencumbered.
If he drafted the response, he could make love to his wife.
Sarah would come home from work and pull the chopsticks out of her red hair, the tendrils a caress against her bare shoulders. “Hey mister,” she'd say as she shrugged out of her blouse, “how'dya like the view from up there?” He'd look down at her, a full foot shorter than him. “It's alright, lady,” he'd drawl. And for just a second, he'd feel almost nervous about kissing her.
If he ran, he could make love to his wife.
And so, for the love of his life, he ran.