Writing excercises

It's project week again! Here are a few samples of writings I've done. Raw and unedited. 

Profile of a man in a green suit

Two rows ahead of me across the aisle sits a man in a forest green suit, mint lines checker his right shoulder softening the suit making it supple. He reaches a hand up to adjust the airflow. Softly his brown hands cradle the knob, twisting it open freeing cold air to cascade across his salted black curls. His hand lingers near the console deciding whether or not to turn on his reading light, weighing the possibility of the light disturbing his sleeping neighbor; and elderly woman with wrinkled skin like soft butter and shockingly died flame red hair so thin that I’m afraid it might fall off if we experience any turbulence. I am struck by the beauty of his hands. Wide palms, fingers thin stretched skin that wrinkles near the middle knuckle. He decides not to turn on the light and his hand descends to his lap, to the worn corner of a thick leather journal. He begins to write and because I can still see his right hand, stationary between the sticky seat tray and journal I realize he must be left handed. Sitting up in my chair, exposed skin squeaking against the cold pleather, I crane my neck attempting to discover more about this man. My eldest brother is left-handed and has always been a fervent believer (and preacher to his younger siblings) that left-handers are more brilliant, creative, and extraordinary than the biologically dominant right-handers. Hearing this endless rant during my formative naïve years, I became a secret believer of the left-handed doctrine and am always on the search for lefties. Finding that the green-suited man, an intriguing man who cared for his sleeping neighbor, was left handed heightened my interest in him. I felt like we were in on a secret alliance, I a sympathetic rightie and he and brilliant leftie.

As we left the plane and waited for luggage I searched the crowd for his suit. I found him; his face was exactly as I had imagined, wide and slightly delicate with beautiful lashes and a small nose. Quiet grey sprinkled his chin and upper lip and when he smiled his face looked like a wreath of hand-spun frosting
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