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I don’t know why, but I could feel it in the pit of my stomach. Something was going to go wrong during the flight. The first sign was that we were all.boarded early. That never happens in a normal flight situation. The second sign was that my husband was sleeping. He hates flying. He’s almost to the point of needing strong medications and a wheelchair in order to make the flight bearable. Yet there he is – snoring no less.
The flight attendant breezes by, securing all overhead compartments as the engines roar to life and the wheels start churning. I sit back in my seat and try to push the premonitions away. It’s just nerves, I tell myself. Just because things are going smoothly doesn’t mean something is going to happen. I let out a quick forced breath and close my eyes. Everything will be ok.
Slowly the plane starts pushing it’s mass forward, whirring as they set the wings and wheels in the right direction. I smile as I prepare myself for the feeling of takeoff. It’s one of the many things I love about flying. The way you can just feel yourself rising higher and higher, as if you’re floating without ever leaving the security of your fastened seatbelt. Watching the view out the window is amazing. Look how many squares there are. They just keep multiplying in various sizes and shades of nature. It’s a qiant quilt of a countryside.
I relax further into my seat and rest my eyes. Take off was smooth. People are beginning to mill about the cabin. My eyes are no longer able to remain open. For some reason, the peacefulness of the take off and the gentle sways of the plane lull me to sleep.
TTTTTRRRRRRIIIIIILLLLL. I open my eyes. Mass chaos. Seas of yellow. Masks. Face masks. Oxygen. What’s happening? Screaming. Crying. Falling. Fast. Smoke. Where’s my husband? Panic. Fear. Worry. Darkness.