On Layovers

It seemed to make sense when I booked my flights, but somehow I set myself up for a 10-hour, overnight layover in Chicago. I managed to find a place for dinner before everything shut down, but now it’s rather barren. Kinda apocalyptic. Sorta creepy.

My hope was (and still is) that I can sit a do a little writing. I’m mostly just sleepy and uncomfortable.

We’ll see. My flight is in eight hours.