The Writer Packs Her Fears as Well

“I think I’ll pass.”

“Chicken,” I snorted, and let Scooter slip into his carrier. He sat in the corner, looking very rejected. “Don’t sulk, Scooter. At least you can travel in the cabin.”

“The monster is traveling in the cabin?!”

“Don’t sound so shocked, you barbarian. Yes, Scooter is sitting next to us in his cage. Animals under five kilograms can travel in the cabin.”

“Oh, joy.” Raine said, and rubbed his temples. “Couldn’t the flight leave any earlier?”

“I see your sarcasm factor has not dropped overnight,” I sighed, and checked all the locks on Scooter’s carrier. Better safe than sorry.

I gulped when I thought about dad and his condition. Would I arrive to find him well? I still remembered the address of his house. I’d hopefully find him there.

“How long is this flight, again?”

“Approximately nine hours and forty nine minutes.”

“Thank you, calculator.”

“Hey! You asked,” I huffed, shaking my head. One thing I wasn’t about to admit was my … sensitivity to flying.

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