I had the window seat on an early morning flight
to Tucson. In the row ahead were two women. I
could see through the slender gap between headrests
to the dark-haired woman on the aisle. She twisted
toward her companion, her eyes animated, so young.
Over the headrest, I could just see the crown of
other woman’s blond head move as she reached
a hand up to adjust her hair, a simple diamond
solitaire on her left hand. Their bright conversation
never lost its urgency until near the end of the
flight. Through the gap, I could see the dark-haired
woman lean in and close her eyes. The blond
woman’s hand appeared with a pair of tweezers
laid flat to the arch of the dark brow to slowly pull
a stray hair. An act of such intimacy that I felt
shamed for watching but could not look away.
Three or maybe four hairs were located but never
jerked. Only a slow-motion horizontal pull that seemed
painless, almost soothing, until finally, a light pinky
finger caress, the smallest unforgettable gesture.
Anna Blake at Infinity Farm
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