Eyeballs fade to obscurity as the dark night engulfs the light ridden cabin.
Thoughts become opaque.
Vision becomes a mochary.
You sit up. Trying to make your way to crooked smile soaked memories.
You smell the perspiration on anxiety-riddened passengers.
What’s happening is absurd.
The noise of wind encompasses the eardrums like taking the 400-meter plunge in Queenstown.
Thought process is like a hamster running frantically without a wheel… that is a cruel mistake.
The toes are virgins to the cold floor.
You don’t trust your feet.
You don’t trust the cabin.
You don’t trust your subconscious mind that tells you to continue to walk forward.
Slowly you fall.
Out of your peripheral you see lips curved upward.
It is a man with his hair receding.
He is laughing at our slow fall to nothingness.
Eye contact is had.
Thoughts are processed.
He wins.