#52 Three Seventy

I called the hostess and asked for fresh water. She said everyone was asking and she didn’t think there was any. She left. I squirmed. Tried to loosen the seatbelt, but it was useless. I smiled without humor: the rust wasn’t going anywhere. I looked across at my nearest seat mate. Long blond hair drifted and a pretty nose came into view. She turned and looked at me; eyeless sockets. I slipped a bright octopus from my pocket and offered it. Hair drifted and fish swam through her breast. I sighed, squirmed, and waited for relief which would never come.