An interlude by Jorge Aldegunde

Picture taken from Pinterest

‘That IB2678 is heading for trouble,’ says the youngest air traffic controller.

‘He won’t respond to our commands!’ cries out the most experienced one in bewilderment.

The airplane has lost all thrust and is gliding, dangerously losing altitude. Still it overflies colossal structures, barely avoiding them as the captain desperately buys some time to reach the agreed spot. At last, there shows a narrow dirt airstrip. Not that there is much space though: a huge crack cuts across it. After a tight manoeuvre, the plane is brought to a halt right before the chasm.


Upon hearing the alarm siren, the blonde girl jumps off the slide, crosses the derelict park and delicately picks up the model aircraft from the ground. She’s also realised the breeze has suddenly stopped. Then she walks towards her brothers, who remain seated on worn-out swings –looking very much like they never harmed a fly–. Alan is holding the remote control; he gently retracts the pointy antenna. Neal, who kept himself busy popping bubble gums, stared as her sister came along.

‘Boys, the game’s over. The curfew has just started.’


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