Carmella sits in the staff room, writing a letter. She writes carefully and quickly. Her eyes are wet by the time she has finished. Slipping the letter into the pocket of a black coat hanging on a peg, she lingers, resting her hand on the fabric of the sleeve.
Packing her case, she stops and sits down on her bed. Lucinda, her tita, comes to the door. She rests her hand on Carmella’s shoulder and kisses the top of her head, inhaling the faint coconut scent of her hair.
A smiling man in his fifties, with dark brown skin, thinning hair, and a hint of mischief in his grin, hugs a middle-aged woman to him. The woman is also dark-complexioned, grey streaks in her black hair, and worry at the corners of her eyes. Carmella looks at the picture of her parents for a minute longer, and then tucks it into her handbag.
The departure lounge is crowded with holidaymakers, their tanned skin glowing orange under the strip lights. Business travellers sit surrounded with briefcases and folders and laptops, talking into their mobile telephones. Elderly couples wait patiently, sharing the newspaper.
Carmella watches the aeroplanes arrive, taxi to a standstill, and quickly surrounded by the fleet of support vehicles. Finding her seat on the ‘plane, she is nervous, her chest feels hollow. The roar of the take off drowns out everything, forcing her head back into the seat, until she feels the land, and everything on it, drop away.
Packing her case, she stops and sits down on her bed. Lucinda, her tita, comes to the door. She rests her hand on Carmella’s shoulder and kisses the top of her head, inhaling the faint coconut scent of her hair.
A smiling man in his fifties, with dark brown skin, thinning hair, and a hint of mischief in his grin, hugs a middle-aged woman to him. The woman is also dark-complexioned, grey streaks in her black hair, and worry at the corners of her eyes. Carmella looks at the picture of her parents for a minute longer, and then tucks it into her handbag.
The departure lounge is crowded with holidaymakers, their tanned skin glowing orange under the strip lights. Business travellers sit surrounded with briefcases and folders and laptops, talking into their mobile telephones. Elderly couples wait patiently, sharing the newspaper.
Carmella watches the aeroplanes arrive, taxi to a standstill, and quickly surrounded by the fleet of support vehicles. Finding her seat on the ‘plane, she is nervous, her chest feels hollow. The roar of the take off drowns out everything, forcing her head back into the seat, until she feels the land, and everything on it, drop away.
Hello, my name is Jack Sparrow. I'm a 50 year old self-employed Pirate from the Caribbean.
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