His house is near the shore, directly under the airport's approach pattern. His guests glance up, stop speaking, each time a plane rumbles. Then they try to go on in strained half-shouts. His voice rises smoothly, easily heard. "I don't mind the noise much. Even the Concorde -- when I hear it, I stop what I'm doing, look up, and watch. Magnificent machine." He smiles. Another plane growls overhead, startlingly large against the pale sky.
Copyright 1993 Edward Gaillard. All rights reserved.