A symphony of bells rang out as a couple brushed past the door to an airport no larger than a convenience store and just as run down. The woman’s head didn’t reached to the man’s chest, and she wore a dress the same color blue the sky appeared that day. Her hair was dun up in a poodle cut like Lucille Bal and as deep a yellow as the dandelions whose blooms were in full swing that April. Holding hands, they strolled to the counter plastered with pin-up girl posters where a man stood eating a can of Spam and reading the newspaper: “First Seven Astronauts Selected” read the headline. A nametag pinned to his uniform read “Bill”. He reminded her of John Wayne; his film had been watched by them at the theatre a few nights before. Frank Sinatra’s tune came funneling out of a radio; some swore his voice stirred the soul. Bill looked like he agreed as he swayed to the music. The man paid the fee and pocketed a two dollar bill in change.

“Charles and Roseanne I reckon. I was wonderin’ when the two of you would turn up. Luckily it’s just the three of us going out today or I might’ve had to leave you behind” His voice was amused, and he waved for them to follow. Charles stole a look at Roseanne; they both smiled like students who had been let out of trouble without punishment. The three of them walked out to the runway stretching across a field. Waves of heat radiated off the concrete; Marram Grass stood still as a corpse. Not a single gust of wind to be found.

“I suppose it’s your honeymoon, then?” Bill asked in an accent thick with southern drawl as he scaled the plane’s side to pull down a stepladder. They nodded and climbed into the plane’s cab; Bill followed them in. A mosaic of buttons, nobs, and levers were turned and switched. The engine roared to life, purring like a cat. President Eisenhower’s speech played over the transistor radio until Bill turned it off, muttering something under his breath neither could make out. Wheels gaining momentum, he tilted up the wings, climbing higher into the blue.
No sooner had the flight reached the blanket of clouds than the engine let out an exhaustive cry. Bang! The plane made a nosedive for the ocean, descending like a pelican diving for fish. Out of the oval window Charles saw a blur red on the wing until bubbles filled the window’s view at the impact that jarred his senses. His eyes searched for her until a veil of smoke fell. His lenses of his horn-rimmed glasses fogged completely.
In a moment he saw a flash of skin familiar to his whole being; skin he had kissed softly, the same he admired glittering in the sun minutes before. He expended every ounce of strength to grab the limp body and swim far enough from the scene. He surveyed his situation while flames licked the water around him. His body felt like a rope with one strand supporting an impossible weight. He pictured this idea, watching the rope strain and sway in his mind, wondering if it would break. The beach lay almost out of sight, but its presence gave the slightest