Noelle
I feel like I’ve spent half my life on an airplane. From cushy first class cabins to bush planes in Africa,with a few helicopters inbetween. I’d been on them all. I used to say I enjoyed traveling, but as I unbuckled my seatbelt and stepped off from the private jet that Raphael had chartered for our flight to Italy, I realized that wasn’t exactly true.
It wasn’t that I enjoyed traveling, it was that it was comfortable and familiar. I didn’t necessarily dislike it either. It just didn’t bring me great joy. Perhaps part of the appeal of traveling was the hope that somewhere out there I would find a place where I belonged.
As I stepped down onto the tarmac I stopped briefly to thank the flight crew, and to give them instructions to load Mr. Segretto’s baggage into the car that was a
