Takeoff

The sounds grew louder, the floor and seats started vibrating, and the buildings outside passed by the window faster and faster.

She looked into his eyes. He held her hand over the armrest they shared.

The man sitting on her other side -much closer than she would have chosen- already snored carefree.

The gray-haired woman across the aisle, mumbling, clutched a blue rosary in her hands.

The baby in the carrier on seat 15B cried.

The seat belts were buckled. The trays, stored in the upright position. The overhead compartments, closed. The screens, dark.

She felt a lightness in her stomach as the wheels left the ground, and she thought that she wouldn’t mind dying that day.

But none of them died that day. Not her, or him, or the snoring man, or the praying woman, or the crying baby, or any of the other 263 passengers and 7 crew members aboard flight 1976 from Los Angeles to Miami.