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But I didn’t even get a chance to take a bite of that pathetic piece of chicken when, from across the aisle to my left, I heard:
— Young man, — said an old lady with curled gray hair and a glasses chain around her neck. She was sitting across the aisle, watching the whole thing. — Were you raised at all?
I laughed. A real, loud, condescending laugh.
— Oh, come on, granny, — I smirked. — You better make sure your pills don’t spill all over the aisle. And honestly, you should be in a coffin already, not giving lectures.
The old woman didn’t reply. She just kept staring. Silently. I never gave a damn about stares, especially from senile old hags, but this one was looking at me in a way that actually killed my appetite a bit.
— What’re you staring at, you old hag?! — I snapped, turning to her sharply. Normally, I’d keep it together, but for some reason this time everything was starting to piss me off. Fuck, can’t even grope some chicks in peace! What kind of flight is this?!
She didn’t blink. Didn’t gasp, didn’t say a word — nothing. Just slowly raised her hand, like she was about to fix her glasses… but instead pointed her finger straight at my face. Stern. Almost ceremonial.
— You’re too proud, Jason, — she said in the same calm, almost church-like voice. — You haven’t really looked in the mirror for a long time.
— What the hell? — I frowned, leaning in sharply. — What mirror, and how the fuck do you know my name, granny? You completely nuts?
— Everything that comes next — is the result of your choice. Enjoy it.
And then, I swear, there was a flicker of a smile in her eyes. Like she knew something I didn’t. And right in that second, the plane gave a faint shudder — turbulence. Or... something else?
I shook my head, pushing away the weird feeling, like I was getting dizzy. Then I stood up, muttering something about the bathroom, and headed there. My brain needed a break, a reset, a switch. I was starting to feel nauseous — and not from the chicken I still hadn’t touched.
The path to the bathrooms felt longer than it should’ve. Like the plane had stretched out, become... unreal. I reached the tiny compartment, locked the door behind me, and stared into the foggy mirror, breathing heavily.
— Well, Jason, — I hissed to myself, — everything’s already fucked, just ride it out.
I splashed cold water on my face, but the tension wouldn’t go. Inside, everything was humming — from irritation, or exhaustion, or rage.
I looked up at the mirror and everything suddenly just… froze.
The reflection wasn’t my face. On the other side of the glass stood… a woman. Young, with smooth skin, refined features, and red hair pulled into a tight bun. She was in uniform — the same uniform the flight attendants on this flight wore: a fitted white blouse, indigo blazer, tight skirt, stockings. I saw every little detail. I saw the tiny nose piercing on her left nostril, how the earrings pulled down her earlobes, even a glimpse of a tattoo peeking from under the collar on her neck.
— What the... — I breathed out, stepping back and blinking, nearly bumping into the wall of the cramped cabin.
Looking again, I let out a relieved breath — my reflection was back.
My hair, my eyes, my face. Everything in place.