Violet had never been afraid of flying. She was flying to her new home in South Florida late this afternoon. She was terrified. She had scheduled an appointment with her sleep doctor for something to take the edge off so she could even board the damn plane. He would also have the results of her sleep tests.
She was shell-shocked when she walked out of his office. He had given her a prescription for her fear of flying along with her diagnosis. PTSD. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. He wanted to know what had happened since he saw her last.
She knew now what was wrong. The last time she had been at an airport. The airport in St. Louis. A traumatic experience. The man she loved had flown away – forever.
Violet put the prescription in the trash. That was not going to destroy her life.