I mean, you all know how it is, right? Sometimes plot bunnies come up that you can't resist...oh wait, is that just me? Never mind. I hope you all love this tale I dreamed up today. I'll continue it, when I can.

Current music: 5 Foot 9 - Tyler Hubbard

I woke to the sound of the plane's landing gear being deployed, that mild shaking anyone who's ever flown anywhere knows. The glass tube in which I'd spent the last several hours vibrated, and it snatched me from my slumber.

A quick glance out the window revealed the city of Boston located far below me. Night had fallen, but you almost wouldn't know it from how brightly lit the city was. Needless to say, I was proud to be from Beantown.

The man on the aisle seat beside me (in first class) was unaware of my ordeal. He tapped me on the shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm awake" I mouthed. "Is there anything you need?"

"I just want you to know that we're about to land," he told me. "So you'd better get ready, lest the plane leave without you on its way back to Miami."

"Trust me, I know" I muttered, casting my glance back to the city that I love.

"You don't look very good," my seatmate replied eventually.

"I've been better," I admitted.

"Would you like to talk about it, sir? They say I might have been a therapist in a previous life."

What's this bullshit about previous lives, anyway?

That's what I was tempted to say, but I was able to stop myself from doing so. After all, compared to the secret I harbored, claiming to have had a past life was pretty tame. If I told this man my story, word for word, he would not believe me.

"I'd rather not," I muttered.

"That's okay," my seatmate replied. "If it's too painful to discuss, there's no need to do so. It might feel therapeutic, though, to just let it out."

"Really, I don't feel the need" I insisted.

"Fair enough. So where are you from?"

I shrugged. "Oh, I live in Boston. Not far from it, anyway."

"I mean, where did you vacation? No Massachusetts liberal would holiday in Florida, not after what their Governor's up to - ".

"I'm not eager to talk about politics right now, sir."

"This isn't about politics. Where did you vacation, because it probably wasn't in Florida?"

Fortunately, I had a story prepared. I didn't have to be very creative about it either, because it was where I'd expected to travel for this special occasion.

"I went to the Virgin Islands," I replied. "Flew from Saint Thomas back to Miami, and now I'm heading back home."

"Did you go alone? Or are you with family?"

I must have been staring pretty hard at the man, because a few seconds later, he backed off. "Okay, my bad. I was only curious, that's all!"

"No need to be sorry. We all overstep others' boundaries sometimes when we don't mean to. It's okay."

The plane landed a few minutes later, and, by virtue of having taken one of the first few rows, I was one of the first people off the flight. Funny how that works.

Once I was back in the terminal, and heard the voice of Massachusetts' Governor welcoming me to Logan Airport, blah blah blah, I saw something that would stick with me for the rest of my life.

A young boy, probably not more than ten, carried a backpack on his shoulders. This wouldn't have been anything unusual, of course, except that it was a Pokémon backpack that prominently featured Pikachu and the Pokéball symbol.

I nearly had a heart attack when I saw it, but it also provided me with a bit of levity. I chuckled internally as I realized that this kid didn't know.

What didn't he know, exactly? Well, if you knew my story, you'd be able to appreciate the irony. Trust me.

As I followed the general rush towards baggage claim, I heard a familiar announcement over the airport's loudspeaker. It was the one they made whenever they needed to page a particular passenger, except that nobody thinks it'll ever be addressed to them.

"Attention all passengers. Would one Lucas Snow make his way to the TSA office near baggage claim?"

I gulped.

On some level, I'd known this was coming. I just hadn't expected it so soon. Surely they'd appreciate that I needed some space, and that they'd have all the time in the world to start a media circus later. But that just wasn't how the world worked, I guess.

There are some things in life you just don't do, and one of those things is to ignore a summons from the TSA at an airport. Once I was near the baggage carousels, I saw the specified office.

My legs felt like jelly as I strode into the TSA office. I tried to project an aura of calm (man, that word aura has a different meaning to me now), but on the inside, I felt sick to my stomach.

"Sit down, please" the TSA officer, a short Asian-looking man, commanded me.

I did as I was told, because, again, one does not simply ignore such an order. Once my rump was in that chair, the officer would be free to grill me like a steak, ask me all the questions in the world until there were none left.

"Look, I don't know what you want me for," I said, "but I think you have the wrong guy. I'm not the villain here."

"I believe you," the TSA guy replied.
"Doesn't sound like it" I muttered.

"Mr. Snow, you know how it works in the U.S. court system. One is always innocent until proven guilty. We're not going to assume you did anything wrong until we have sufficient evidence beyond a reasonable doubt. You know how it goes, right?"

"I'm afraid not. I majored in Political Science, not Law."

"Don't play dumb with me, Mr. Snow. I am not your enemy; I just want to get to the truth of all this. You know that as well as I do."

If I'm innocent, and I am, I'll submit to his questions without complaint. That's what they always say, and why would this time be any different?

"Okay" I muttered. "What would you like to know?"

"We have your boarding passes in the system here, you know" the TSA officer told me.

"I mean, I assume there would be a database of sorts. I guess that since 9/11, you can never be too careful."

"Correct. Anyway, last week, you and your wife, Amanda Mariner, boarded a flight from here to Miami, with your final destination being Saint Thomas. How were the Virgin Islands?"

"Well…they're beautiful. An overseas territory of the United States, but that's only half of it; some of them are British. She majored in Geography, that's where my knowledge of that came from."

"Must be a sore subject, right? Unless…".

I slammed my fist against the table. "I don't know what you're suggesting, Officer, but it's not true. I didn't do anything!"

"Again, Mr. Snow -".

"Just call me Lucas, please." My first name felt more human, somehow, than my surname. I always preferred it, anyway, just because I loved said name. Maybe it didn't age well, but who cares?

"Lucas, you're not accused of anything here. We just want to know what happened. Two of you boarded a flight to Saint Thomas, and only one of you returned."

"Indeed."

"So you want to find a solution, don't you? I mean, she's your wife."

"Yep."

The TSA officer nodded curtly. "In that case, you'll have no problem answering a few of my questions. It's just a few, mind you - I don't intend to keep you all night. Just be honest with me, all right?"

"I guess I have to be. Perjury is a crime, isn't it?"

"Yep."

"Well, the story involves some things you won't believe. Pokémon, perhaps."

The officer raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really?"

"Yes."

"So it wasn't a forgettable vacation, I take it?"

I sighed, slouching back in the cold, hard chair. "It wasn't forgettable, Officer. It was a trip I wish I could forget."