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I’m sitting here in the low-rent district of Dulles (Terminal A). The flight’s supposed to get to the destination at about midnight; however, we’re running about an hour and a half late. Bummer.

She was in her late 20’s, smoking hot, and completely aware of it. She was wearing a green knit hoodie, and snacking on a bag of snack mix she’d stuck in her purse for such an occasion. Even dressed down for a travel day, she was impossible not to notice.

Her boyfriend was a year younger than her. He’d attended a reasonably respected school; not Ivy League, but that was more a factor of his not wanting to risk rejection than a lack of qualification.

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  1. […] So, yesterday’s sojurn through Dulles ended up being way more painful than I’d hoped. […]

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