Two Bloody Marys and it’s got me: the Altitude Otter. I call it an otter because it’s wet and slick, slips into water like Aspirin.
Crazy Rich Asians. This movie isn’t even good but I’m blubbering, steamy tears soaring through turbulence.
My FitBit shows 92 bpm, silly high, but the Otter prefers my heart when it paddles faster, like his, through rivers and clouds. The scent of toilet. These Asians are not that crazy.
The passenger beside me feigns sleep, but he’s seen my hamster cheeks, soppy eyes.
“It’s just so sad,” I confide in the Otter, swimming the sky.
Natalie Harris-Spencer is an English writer, blogger, editor and Creative Writing MFA student living in America. She enjoys surprise. And tea.
One thought on “The Altitude Otter”
Interesting, laconic and terse is the irony. Anand Bose from Kerala
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