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“Remember that time I told you I wanted to be an airplane pilot?”

“You never told me that,” Michael browsed the paper, careful not to spill his coffee.

“I did too.”

“Then I must’ve forgotten.”

“Well I do,” Lori sat down at the table, “I want to be an airplane pilot.”

“As opposed to a riverboat pilot.”

“I’m serious,” she pulled her robe close around her.

“You want to be a pilot?” Michael finally looked up, “Professionally?”

“Yes.”

Michael nodded slowly.

“What?” she insisted.

“Sweetheart, you’re forty-six.”

“And?”

“And an accountant,” he said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“And?”

“And don’t you think that’s a bit of a… I don’t know… a hell of a left turn, kind of late in the game.”

“You think I’m too old?” Lori raised an eyebrow.

“I think you need to think about it,” his voice softened, “Carefully.”

“I have.”

“You have? Since when?”

“I’ve always loved flying, you know that. And I’ve been thinking about it lately, and I want to give it a shot. I’m not going to do anything rash, and I don’t expect to achieve everything overnight…” Lori took a long breath in, “But I want to try.”

Michael looked at her, looked into her, and smiled. Even after 20 years, her head was still as much in the clouds as it was the day he met her. And it was beautiful.

“Alright, Captain,” he said, “When do we take off?”

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