“Alright Marcus, we’re here.”
“Really?” was Marcus’ incredulous response. They had arrived at an old abandoned airfield. The few buildings were crumbling in disrepair. Decaying piles of scrap metal and rusting containers littered the grounds. “So, where’s the plane John?”
“Just here,” John pointed.
“What, that?” Marcus followed the tip of John’s finger toward… “That’s not an airplane. That’s a collage!”
It appeared to be, at its heart, an old Cessna frame, but it was a hodgepodge of numerous random pieces scavenged from, Marcus was certain, more than just other old aircraft. The whole picture was a patchwork of varied textures and colors. A scruffy old man appeared out from under what Marcus assumed was a wing to greet the boys. He was draped in ill-fitting vintage flying attire complete with leather cap and goggles.
“Is this a joke John? I thought you had tickets to go skydiving?” Marcus complained.
“I do,” replied John rummaging through his pockets.
"Walk?"
Marcus raised his eyes from his laptop, "What?"
His wife frowned. It was her impatient frown. The frown with the soft furrow of the brow, pursing of the lips, slight tilting of the head and an ever so gentle pop of her right eyebrow. "Do... you... want... to... go... for... a walk?" she queried again with slow mocking emphasis on every word. She raised her eyebrow just a little higher.
Marcus glanced out the living room's picture window. A gentle snow was drifting about swirling in the pink hues of the setting sun. "But," he began hoarsely, "This presentation for tomorrow," he gestured urgently to his screen, "it's really important. You know I'd love to but..." The breeze whipped the flakes into a twirling waltz across the front yard. His wife's expression had slumped into disappointment. "Oh that's not fair," he started again, "You know how it is at work, one screw up and poof: no more bills paid and no more food on the table." He glanced out the window again. It was like gazing into a hand-painted snow globe tumbling with flakes and glowing with vibrant hues of color. A deep sigh escaped Marcus and he turned back toward his wife forcing a smile, "Fine, okay sure. I'll come too." She smiled a little and turned to fetch her mittens. "I mean it's only money right," Marcus whispered to himself watching her walk away. He closed his laptop, stood to follow her.