Gazing out the window, I find miles and miles of nothingness. Simply blue, nothing more. Few spaces are painted white, contrasting with the vast depth of limitless sky. In the distance, I locate a cloud overflowing with anger. Its ominous gray composure doesn’t fit in with the rest. Sounds familiar. At that moment, I notice my pale reflection in the plane window. A simple coincidence of course. I assure myself it means nothing. I shift my gaze downward. The shimmering sea demands that I squint my eyes. The fiery heat of the sun grazes my forehead and leaves beads of sweat in its wake. My hands are damp with liquid nerves.
I imagine myself falling. All stability vanishes from around me and I’m boundless. I start drifting. Then tumbling. Suddenly spiraling. Now plummeting. The ground surges at me like a knife. My flailing limbs fail to make me fly. My heart rate deepens. First fluttering, then beating, now pounding. I hit the ground like a beat on a drum. Pain penetrates my wicked mind. Not from falling, but from the constant pressure pushing outward. Kind of like the air within the plane I sit in. Who’s to say this metal contraption won’t implode like the fragile makeup of my mind. Stranger things have happened.
In the fourth hour of the trip, around 8pm, it starts. The fizzy sprite delivered to the woman to my left has a faint cloudiness that tints its clear color; however, only trained minds like mine would notice. To this day, I still wonder why I didn’t mention it as she lifted it to her glossy lips. Why I hesitated to call for help as her fragile body went limp. Why I didn’t save her precious life.
Commotion engulfs the plane as it sails beneath the stars. Doctors stumble their way through the crowded aisles. Nosy passengers stand up in their seats to get a glimpse of the action. Flight attendants scurry to get a hold of radios. Mothers shield their children’s eyes from the unholy scene unraveling before them. Babies whimper to reclaim the attention being plucked from their helpless hands. I sit like a statue and stare.
In the midst of such chaotic calamities, I find myself thinking how irrelevent this incident is to the world. How miniscule we are to the universe. This is meaningless. I am as insignificant as a tarnished penny on a sidewalk - tails up - that no one bothers to pick up. Why worry about this stranger when my own life now seems hollow? The quiet stillness of the night has no concern for us. The earth and its inhabitants seem to have no record of our existence. Oblivion has arrived early.
The turbulence jerks me back to reality. Here I am, day-dreaming, while the 150 people around me wouldn’t dare shift their gaze away for a second; fearing their selfish negligence could possibly aid in this woman’s premature death. But I find my mind preoccupied with frivolous thoughts. The voices in my head dare to distract me. One shouts, “Help her you fool!" Another whispers, "Flee while you can." The only certainty I face is that now she lies dying. What’s wrong with me you ask? I wish I knew.
As the flight continues, one of the three doctors tending to the silent sufferer - Jane - confirms that she was poisoned. The air thickens. Bodies stiffen. Time is suspended. Some passengers become edgy; some skittish. All motions become less fluid, more rigid. Glances turn into glares. Restless jitters overwhelm the crowd. Smirks flee from even the smuggest of men. No one on board can avoid breathing in the vile tension that burns lungs raw. It envelops every one of us.
I find myself in awe of how quickly an amiable atmosphere can be altered, like a sunny day that is disrupted by the biting chill of a rain cloud. The threatening one I noticed earlier is now upon us. At first it seemed gloomy. Then troubled. Now sinister. It encompasses the plane and casts a bleak shadow upon us. I again see my dismal reflection in the window.
I daringly scope out my fellow animals. That’s all we are. It becomes more and more obvious as the crisis we endure strips away the composure we pretend to possess. An announcement made by the pilot confirms that we are beginning our descent. Can’t he see we’ve already touched down? Our descent as humans beings began the moment Jane collapsed like the fragile system we call mankind. It was not a smooth decline like the one the pilot promised. No, it was brutal.
A man in uniform inspects every one of us as we finally exit the plane. Along with the dead body, a palpable tension escapes the door and lingers among us. I cannot rid myself of the morbid aura that tastes stale on my skin. The hard pavement sends a sense of security surging from my toes to my head. I cannot help but think that this is simply a trick, aiming to dissolve my hard shell. But no, I will not let the evil in.
After a few simple questions by interrogators, I am released. The drive home consists of blaring silence that rattles my bones. I tell myself I will not relive the day’s events. Not now. Not ever. They are in the past and do not concern me. This attempt fails the second I enter my home and turn on the news. Tireless detectives are investigating every inch of the aircraft. Their determination is stubborn. Their clues are surfacing. Their pride is unwavering. However, their confidence is inferior. To whose you may ask? Well, mine of course. For as I sit on this worn sofa in a cramped New York City apartment, I know they’ll never find me.