You fell asleep on the airplane. When you awaken, you see this young woman leaning on your shoulder, fast asleep. A string of saliva drips from her lip to the collar of your shirt. She breathes soft and slow, the smell of peppermint mouthwash wafting from her mouth. She wears a weak perfume, the essence of tropical wildflowers. You can detect vanilla-scented shampoo in her dark copper-red hair, which drapes over your chest. The armrest is up and her lap belt is unfastened, so she's leaning against you fully. She's wearing a nametag for work, it reads Opallina.