En Route

“McLeese? Lori McLeese?” The flight attendant hovered in the aisle. I looked at him, eyebrows arched in acknowledgement. “Special meal, lowfat selection.” I accepted the tray he offered with curiosity.

“Lowfat?” sneered Stas. “What’s up with that?” I shrugged. The meal preference must have remained in my United profile leftover from those days when I traveled often; I did not remember making a special request for this journey. As I finished my meal, a good half hour later, Stas, sans food, turned to me. “So when to the regular fat people get to eat?”

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