This is a very short one-shot to remind us all that even though your days get long and boring you shouldn't forget yourself in the routine of life. Life is never a routine, but another brilliant way to live.

-MistyWing

Disclaimer: Card Captor Sakura is not mine.

Music about Me

MistyWing

Back in the day when people enjoyed flying, there were stewardesses who attended to you, there were attractive fellow passengers who smiled at you, and there were free snacks and drinks that went around. Passengers would get on in a timely manner and the plane would be up in the air at precisely the time that was written on the boarding ticket. Those were certainly the fly days that should be lived up to today. However, today flyers had to put up with rude stewardesses, carryon fees, and nonstop chatty fellow flyers. If one was lucky enough he could get through another flight without the chatty flyer.

Flying was not the way it used to be for a man who had been flying for ten years. He was one of those guys, who frequently met quite interesting people, but there's a limit to his tolerance when he met such people. Eventually one would begin to see what was originally unique as something very lame and boring. Everyone he ever sat next to was colorful in one way or another, but if one flew as many times as he did in one week, color becomes ash gray.

Syaoran was a business representative for his father's company. His job required that he spend much of his time in the air for travel. When he landed he met with buyers at conventions and such. It was just a job that meant that he must spend more time on wings than on feet, but when he did finish his business on ground, he found that fun was concealed in the loop of other company reps or the usual wealthy consumers. If work was just a vicious cycle for him he would rather be in the company of someone less chatty on the flights. No one enjoys listening to others and acting like they give a damn all their lives.

When Syaoran looked out the window during the flight, he often would relocate himself to the place that he wished not to be. Regulars would usually relocate themselves to a place they wish to be, but for Syaoran, there wasn't a set place he needed or wanted. Maybe that was just the case for all frequent flyers of ten years. Syaoran was airborne so much of his life that he didn't believe in fixing himself to certain places.

"That looks pretty complicated," the passenger sitting beside him said. She was bending her head to the side and looking at the graphs and diagrams he was going over on his laptop. She munched on her peanuts and laughed lightly. "Those are pie diagrams and histograms. The other things and words aren't very familiar."

He grunted. She watched him adjust his eyes from the window to the computer screen. She immediately regretted grabbing his attention because the little-boy-far-off look he had when he was staring out the window had went black and became that brooding moody scowl.

Sakura did not get around much by air. She was not the usual frequent flyer, but her new, year-old job brought her to places she would have never visited if she hadn't been so lucky. The job also brought her these interesting fellow flyers. This one was obviously a frequent flyer, who had been to every spot imaginable judging by his suit and tie. Sakura was not quick to judge others though, and that was the main reason why she struck this conversation with the man who glared at everything except the clouds outside his window. She wasn't sure he knew how much he stared out that window of his. Everyone had their story and the mystery of their story maximally intrigued her.

Sakura had an interesting story of her own that went with one of the guitars she brought along. Syaoran had noticed the black guitar case when she had stepped on and settled in the aisle seat next to him. If anyone ever bothered to ask the bright outgoing young woman about her earlier years they would have been surprised to hear her say that she was a college dropout in her final year. If they had asked the question and heard her answer they would also be quick to judge that her family must have disowned her. That was not the case. Her family was the biggest support system she had for what she did.

It was not an everyday occurrence, when polar opposites sat next to each other. Fate put the guy in the suit next to the girl in the ripped jeans and the other way around as well. Now it was up to Sakura to exchange the stuffy atmosphere to one of convivial energy.

"I see you have a laptop and you're working on something important," she said, wiping her salty fingers on her lap.

"I have a conference in the afternoon. Please, excuse me."

Syaoran was maintaining his politeness extravagantly. The woman was not one to take a hint from the annoyed businessman, though.

"I think you're ready for whatever big presentation you're going to have to make. I mean, look at the data you're going to present. That speaks for itself," she said.

He made a move to glance up at the compartment over their heads. "I suppose you need very little preparation for your ventures."

She laughed. "Do you even know what I do?"

He raised an eyebrow expectantly. His gaze was leveled on her and when his amber eyes connected with her green eyes, she actually cracked up again. "Sorry," she said, priggishly, "But I do write, sing, and play songs for a living."

Sakura was ready to defend her position because, believe it or not, many people tended to make her defend herself. Here she was, a rising star, trying like the rest of them to get out of the rut of a starving artist and climb up to stardom. She was ready to defend herself from the usual stereotypical jibber jabber, not the fact that she was a perfectly good working artist in her own right and that she was going to make it out of sheer hard determination. She was already at the end of the stretch and enjoying life as it flew by. That would be hard to believe if one didn't see the hard work and pure luck that was in the long haul.

"While you convince yourself that everything you sell is the best, I play a song I write," she said, confidently.

He glared at her. At that moment she realized her own hurtful words and stopped to apologize. "Sorry again. I didn't mean to sound that way. I'm awful when you get me all defensive and such. It's in the nature of a starving artist," said she.

"What kind of music do you play?" He quietly asked.

"A little bit of folk with blues and rock," she merrily answered.

He smiled serenely and said, "Well, that's everything I don't listen to. It has never appealed to me."

"Funny," she laughed, "It's all that I am about."

Syaoran leaned forward in his seat as Sakura gave him a ticket to her concert. "This kind of music is about life, love, and dreams. Come to the concert tonight if you get the chance," she said.

"Maybe if I have the time," he replied.

The plane landed. When Sakura got out of her seat and reached over head, she winked at him.

It was a day in life that was masterfully faster than the rest. Syaoran did not feel like he had dragged his feet through another day. Not that he ever felt that way about work in general. This was just a particularly different end of a day because he had plans other than the quick dinner party with the top-dogs involved in his business affairs. For one night he was finally dressing for comfort and not dressing to impress egos.

He could not remember the last time he had the chance to let loose and go with the flow. When he was at the bar, he ordered a root beer float that had all eyes ogling at him. Everyone else had some kind of alcoholic beverage. He still did not fit in for who he was, so he stood all the way to the end of the crowd when the music started.

Sakura was looking for her fellow flyer when she played and sung her heart out. Each note she strummed matched the accompanying tune she sung. It was rare for her to sing her own songs at the concerts. The face of their band was her friend Tomoyo who was lovely and picture-perfect with her pitch-perfect voice to fit. Today, Sakura had decided to sing because this was a song for her fellow flyer.

"I play the music about me," Sakura crooned.

When she looked up from the third chord, she saw him in the back. He was pushing his way to the front row. She walked to the edge of the stage and reached out to him. Their fingertips touched and for that instant she smiled at him.

"Do you feel it? This music is about me and about you," she sang.

Then, Sakura withdrew and gave him her second wink of the day. Meanwhile, Syaoran was jumping along with everyone else, following her and the beat of her music.

THE END

I would like to take a moment to tell you all to ROCK ON. Thank you.

MW