Gabriel North

Charlie's Weight

I have a nosebleed when the plane lands. That sense of lift you have when your balls try to run back into your pelvis, your heart skips in your chest, and your brain plays the rerun of Airplane Destination Death doesn't leave me even after the plane parks and the hostess tells everyone to unbuckle their seatbelts. I chalk it up to nerves. Right about now, my would-be father-in-law should be going up in a glorious blaze of purifying flames erasing his taint from the Earth.