As the landing gear hydraulics started their whine I was elbowed out of my cross-country lull. I spent the descent peeking through the crack between the seats as a curly-haired woman apathetically flipped through glossy pages. I took note of the articles that I thought that you might like and the photos that might even be worthy of pinning to your cubicle wall at work. I worried that before deplaning I wouldn't know what magazine I'd be looking to buy for you, but just before touchdown I caught a glimpse of the subscription card.

So all week I've been looking for it, mainly in grocery store magazine racks (in the magazine section, not at the check out). Tuesday I even wrote the title's initials on a knuckle thinking that even though it'd probably wear off, I'd know what the smudge stood for (an unnecessary precaution given that we rarely see each other on Tuesdays anyway!). So tonight after dreaming of you while napping, I woke after dark and made a special trip, worried that I'd missed the newsstand run - maybe it was last month's.