It’s the day before wheels up,
     the quiet edge before takeoff,
     the deep breath before the leap,
     the slow countdown to first light—

     close enough to count hours,
     far enough to feel them stretch.

You’re staying busy,
       friends and drinks,
       laughter pouring generously,
       memories made (and maybe blurred),

       each sip a quiet promise,
       a whispered lie that you won’t let me distract you… (even though u know better)

Me, buried in work,
    spinning distractions from meetings,
    conversations that don't stick,
    nodding along, but eyes already on tomorrow’s sky,

    counting minutes under my breath and pretending I’m not.

We're both here,
      silently agreeing to keep busy,
      smiling at our shared strategy,
      nodding at the same unspoken truth—

      knowing the harder we push the louder our quiet gets.

Because tomorrow—
        Atlanta again.
        Distance collapsing.
        No more playing it cool.

But today—
    we’ll just stay distracted,
    quietly inebriated,
    gently occupied…

    pretending we’re not already halfway to each other.