“Look at me, sir. Are you carrying any prohibited items?”
I look right into his eyes. My jaw locks. I can’t find a normal expression, so I force my lips into a grotesque, frozen grin. I step entirely out of my mind and cross over into real smile territory.
“No, officer,” I say, my voice terrifyingly calm as the room vanishes entirely into blinding white light.
I’m not in the terminal anymore. I am floating backward, retreating into the soft, suffocating safety of a childhood kitchen, burying myself deep beneath oatmeal mountains where the badges can never reach me.
