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Longitude and Latitude

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Ann gets drunk in the airport bar.

She doesn't care that it's a stupid idea. She gets airsick anyway; there was a reason she specified a cruise when she told Bobby she wanted to travel the world. But it's hard to catch a cruise from landlocked Dallas, so she'll sit in first class and throw up tequila until the dramamine puts her to sleep, and when she wakes up, she'll be... somewhere else. She can't remember where.

God, she thinks, let it be a port.


"Ah, fuck," she says, hiding her face in her hands. The room spins when she picks her head up, but nothing else changes. "Leave me alone, Sue Ellen."

She doesn't.

"Where are you going?" Sue Ellen asks, taking the seat next to her. The last person to sit there was a businessman with a pale line around his ring finger; he went from calling her sugar to calling her a bitch in ten seconds flat.

Ann slides her phone toward Sue Ellen with a shrug. "'s on there. If you find it, let me know."

Sue Ellen picks up the phone, taps and flicks at the screen before setting it back down. "Come home, Ann. Please."

"Home to where?" Her voice cracks. She blames the tequila even as she takes another sip. "Bobby's made it plenty clear: Southfork's his house, not mine. I don't have a home."

Sue Ellen touches the hand Ann has curled around her glass. "You do." She hooks her little finger around Ann's. "You always do." She stands up and steps back from the bar, her finger still wrapped around Ann's. "Come home with me."

Ann sighs, but she gets to her feet.