It was raining when the airplane took off. The sound of the landing gear retracting up into the body of the plane seemed louder than usual, putting the cabin on edge. I wished that I’d listened to my wife’s suggestion. I should have cancelled this trip—it was a bad day to travel, with bad weather.
Suddenly the entire aircraft lifted up into the air. Next to me, directly to my right, sat a man wearing a suit. He looked pale. His eyes were closed and his lips trembled.
Meanwhile, I clutched the armrest tightly. I felt like a tiny being who had been dangled over a canyon that was growing deeper and deeper.
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