Last Flight Home

by Wootbot

Nipping At His Nose

“I’m sorry, sir,” the woman at the counter told Roger. “That was the very last flight. The snow’s just too bad this year.”

Roger sat in the food court and toyed with a mustard packet and considered his options. He’d promised his daughter that he’d be home for Christmas. He just had to take a little business trip first. She put her hands over his and made him swear, made him swear on Santa Claus that he’d be home on time. He’d found every possible flight, a little plane out of LAX, a jumbo jet from DEN, even a news helicopter from STL to ORD. The pilot gave him a thumbs up as they said a quick goodbye, and Roger felt like someone was watching out for him. But here he was, sitting alone in a closed airport with a suitcase full of toys. And this would be his Christmas.

“Excuse me,” said the white-haired man in the grey suit. “Do you mind if I sit here?” Roger waved him down without looking.

“Staying the night, huh? I’ve just arrived myself. Can’t say I dislike this weather. I’m a big fan of snow, a big fan. Hope you think it’s beautiful too.”

Roger shook his head. “Not tonight, fella. Normally, sure, but right now, this snow’s the only thing keeping me from my family. First time in my whole life I’ve ever broken a promise to my little girl. Guess it can’t be helped, but…”

The white-haired man nodded. “I suppose I understand why you’d be sad, then. It’s a shame, too. Snow’s supposed to make people happy.”

“Yeah, my girl loves looking at the snow. But in just a few minutes, I’m gonna call her and say I couldn’t make it home. She’s going to look at that window and know that pretty snow is keeping her daddy away. And now it won’t be magical. It’ll just be weather. But I guess she had to grow up sometime.”

The white-haired man tapped his chin thoughtfully. “She really loves snow that much, does she?”

Roger shrugged. The white-haired man held out his hand. “I’m Jack, stranger.”

“Roger,” said Roger. The white-haired man’s hand was strangely cold.

“Pleased to meet you, Roger. So tell me… you seem like a brave man. What if I told you there was a way for you to get home to your daughter tonight? A way that some would consider a little bit… unorthodox? Would you be interested?”

Roger leaned back in his chair and looked the white-haired man in the eyes. “What would I have to do?”

Wear this shirt: around Hollywood producers, because it could very easily inspire a holiday blockbuster. Hey, don’t scoff, they’ve used up just about everything else.

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This shirt tells the world: “They only call you a flake if you don’t succeed.”

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