Heather Harter

Two More

Touch every ocean The landing gear hit the ground, jerking Lane Bishop awake. Immediately his neck began to ache from his in-flight nap. He considered maybe he should have moved around a bit while in the air for circulation, then dismissed it a moment later with a chuckle, causing the young woman next to him to cast a puzzled side eye glance his way. The irony of trying to prevent death at this point did not fail to amuse him. With the plane approaching the gate, Lane grabbed his carry on from under the seat in front of him and turned his phone back on. As it started up, he pulled out his small black notebook from the front pocket, already opened to the page he needed. He did not need to look at the writing, he had had it memorized for the last two years, but it gave him comfort still.