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The Writer Accepts Help

The plane bumped up and down erratically, and my heartbeat sped up immediately.

I closed my eyes and shook my head feebly. I had to think about something relaxing; something happy. Scooter – nope, he’s pretty grumpy himself.

Arizona – it’s been left behind. No matter what I’d think about, my brain would somehow wheedle a negative response to it.

Right now, my world was vibrating vertically, and my brain wasn’t too happy about it. With the blood pounding in my ears, I gripped the chair in a vice like clench.

“You’ve turned the most lovely shade of lime.”

I’ll kill him once this is over.

“I don’t need this right now. I thought you were on standby.”

“Sorry, my system decided to boot up after you practically ripped my hand to shreds.”

Opening a tentative gray eye, I saw that I indeed, had grasped his hand in an attempt to steady myself.

My first instinct was to pull away, and I got halfway there before he caught my hand again and pulled it back again.

And for a change, I left it there.

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