Spirit Air and Social Cues

Thwack.  


Thwack.  


Thwack.  


THWACK.

The thin, high pitched wailing of at least 7 different tiny tortured souls causes my eyelids to flutter, but I struggle to stay under.

Thwack.

Thwack.

Thwack. THwack. ThWAK.  THWACK.  THWACK.  THWACK.

As my head bounces off the window again, I am jolted out of a neck twisting doze, blinking against fluorescent lighting and cringing as the sound of crying babies seems to increase.  As I’m thrown forward again, I am sorely tempted to reach back and grab the tiny demon legs that continue to beat into the back of my chair.  

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