The trip under the trip

Terminal maps. Connection times. How long until you could smoke again. The rules where you're landing, and whether you'll find cigarettes there or should pack extra. Every trip came with a second itinerary, and you were its only passenger.

The cigarette flew free and made you its travel agent. It picked the layovers. It cut trips short. It wrote the polite excuse for the wedding overseas and the visit you kept pushing to next year. Money and time didn't leave those empty spots on your map. It did.

That second itinerary is deleted. A long flight is just a long flight now. Bad food, a middle seat, a movie you'd never pick at home. A strict country is just a place with its own bread. You can say yes to the faraway invitation and mean it. God made a wide world. He never meant you to plan it around a supply line.

One empty spot, one real step, today. The city you keep mentioning. The friend three time zones away. Look up the price of a seat, or text them one line. "When are you free?" Watch how fast the idea turns into a plan. The world just got bigger, and you're cleared to board.