The woman on the plane said she loved takeoffs because they were like orgasms. Something right out of the movies, cigarette to follow. She was getting married in a week. Her third engagement. She drank a gin and tonic, the straw making a hollow sucking sound, signifying the end of something. She wrote her number down, signing it, a soulmate, and when I called thirty-five years later I heard a forlorn voice and the sound of a straw making a desperate attempt to locate those last few precious drops of liquid at the bottom of an empty plastic cup.
Peter DeMarco bared his soul in a New York Times "Modern Love" essay. “Takeoff” is the winner of our INTERSECTIONS contest, part of our 2026 Micromemoir Marathon.