Week 32: Blue

The Trifecta Challenge is to write anything, in whichever form, that is between 33 and 333 words based upon a word and definition given. This week’s word is “blue.” My personal challenge is to weave the entries into an actual story. Word count verified by Written? Kitten!

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“Thanks,” Sahara said, taking a packet of peanuts and a cup of soda from the flight attendant. She could hardly stand to look at the smiling young woman in her red and blue uniform and after a moment she found herself relieved to be alone again, staring out the window.

“Everything okay?” Dean sat down in the aisle seat and eyed Sahara’s bag sitting on the empty chair between them. He’d paid for the three seats on their row so they could talk without worrying about people listening to them, but as soon as they had been informed they could leave their seats she had dumped everything possible onto the seat to keep him from sitting beside her. When she didn’t answer him, he tried again. “I know how you feel,” he said. “I liked Chicago too. Having to leave it suddenly like this, it’s only natural to feel a little blue.”

“A little blue? Who are you, my mother?” Sahara tore open the foil pack so hard that it ripped in half, sending a hail of honey roasted peanuts at Dean across the empty seat. “What’s next? Asking me if I want some milk with my snack?”
“I’m sure the stewardess can get you some if you really want it,” Dean said, attempting a smile. Sahara shot him a dirty look and he looked away from her, picking the peanuts out of his lap.

Sahara supposed she should feel bad about snapping at him, but she was finding it hard to work up anything remotely like sympathy. After his lecturing her at the train station about losing her temper with her ex-boss, he had been the one to pull out his gun on a homeless person in the middle of the street. She glanced over at him irritably. It wasn’t her fault they were sitting on a plane to the middle of nowhere, and it was going to be a long time before she let Dean forget that it was his.

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