The Imperfectionists: An FAQ

"Once at the boarding gate, Abbey falls into her customary travel coma, a torpor that infuses her brain like pickling fluid during long trips. In this state, she nibbles any snack in reach, grows mesmerized by strangers' footwear, turns philosophical, ends up weepy. She gazes at the banks of seats around the departure lounge: young couples nestling, old husbands reading books about old wars, lovers sharing headphones, whispered words about duty-free and delays.
    She boards the plane, praying it won't be full. The flight from Rome to Atlanta is elven hours, and she intends to stretch out--she'll work and sleep, in that order. From the corner of her eye, she spots a man pausing at her row, consulting his ticket. She glares out the window, imploring him away. (Once, she allowed a fellow passenger to engage her in conversation and it became the longest flight of her life. He made her play Scrabble and insisted that 'ug' was a word. Since then, her rule has been to never talk on planes)."

"What is wrong with guys? Half are molting; half are nothing but undergrowth."

"'I got myself into a tangle. I tied myself in knots. I built and I built--heaven knows I have done that well.  Those skyscrapers, full of tenants, floor after floor, and not a single room containing you.'"