Martina The Flight Attendant

I saw you for a fleeting moment on the airplane. I fell instantly in love with you. I wondered if you had a boyfriend. You must have. A beautiful woman always has somebody for company. I briefly imagined us together. Oh, how I would love you. Do all those things you see in romantic movies: Buy you flowers for no other reason than I love you; take you for long walks along Lake Geneva; have a picnic in the park.

I think about you, and I don’t know why. It’s not rational. But love is not rational. I wonder what you are doing at this moment, and where you are. Are you happy, or sad? What are you thinking? Did you notice me? Are you thinking about me, like I am about you? Probably not. Nobody ever notices me, especially beautiful women. You are what they call “out of my league.”

You were my flight attendant to Chicago, and my unrequited love. But if I had the money I would buy another business class ticket to Zurich just so that I could watch you work on your return journey.

Martina, I never even introduced myself, and I just got your name off your name tag. You see, I am shy, and unwise in the ways of love. But I want to thank you. I want to thank you for that brief happiness you brought into my life, by just existing.