Free Blur Me by EB Jones

One
     
    Her knuckles were white. God I hate turbulence. She felt her fingers dig into the cheap plastic armrest.
     
    The captain's voice spoke over the intercom. “Ladies and gentlemen, please keep your seat belts fastened. We're having a few-”
     
    The airplane dropped from under her. There was a crashing noise from the rear of the plane. Her seatbelt, which she'd cinched so tight that it made her need to pee, pulled her downward with the airplane as she felt that sickening sensation of her stomach rising to her throat.
     
    I never liked roller coasters. And I hate turbulence even more. Hate it with a passion. Her heart had started to beat fast and hard. Aside from the sound of the crashing beverage cart in the back and the small jet engines rising and falling in pitch, it was strangely quiet in the cabin. No, not exactly quiet – there was a woman two rows in front of her, clutching a toddler in her lap and crying quietly.
     
    This is how people behave when they look death in the eye, she thought. And even in the fog of her own terror, it struck her as strange just how quiet people became.
     
    “Sorry about that, ladies and gentlemen. We're going to have a few bumps on our trip to Maine this afternoon. We've asked the flight attendants to suspend beverage service for everyone's safety. We're going to try and find some smoother air for you this afternoon. Thanks for your understanding.”
     
    She thought she heard his voice waver. Was that a note of fear masked in his voice? He knew that they'd just have to ride this one out, didn't he?
     
    And he's not sure if we can ride it out.
     
    The seat next to her was empty. For the first time in her life, she actually wished someone else had been sitting there, even if it meant sharing an armrest and having to tap a stranger on the shoulder when she needed to get up to use the restroom. Because on this flight, she would have welcomed a stranger's hand squeezing her own. A touch that would tell her it would be all right, even if the violent gyrations of the commuter jet said otherwise.
     
    She looked out the milky plexiglass of the window. They were surrounded by towering cumulus clouds, billowing so high above them that she couldn't even see the tops, the sides of them white and inviting. That was almost more terrifying than if the clouds had appeared jet black. It was as though the clouds were saying 'come on in, come for a ride. We'd love to give you a few bumps and jolts. We all fall down eventually. Don't you want to fall down with us? We all fall down.'
     
    (we all fall down)
     
    Breathe Melissa, breathe. Just ride it out. Only forty more minutes to go. And when you get on the ground, you can re-evaluate having chosen a career that requires so much airline travel.
     
    She flew all the time, but for her it was a necessary evil. She had an interview with Liam Sims, singer-songwriter and frontman for the band The Super Unknowns . Why he'd decided to hide out on the coast of Maine after he'd finished his last tour she had no idea. She supposed that she might get that out of him during the interview –
     
    (if I make it to this interview)
     
    Maybe I should ask for a transfer to the editing department. Because I'm not sure if going down in a fiery crash, as statistically improbable as that may seem to someone on the ground at this very moment, is worth the thrill of seeing my name printed on the byline of –
     
    The plane dropped again, and this time one of the overhead bins flew open from the impact, sending two roll aboard bags and a purse crashing to the cabin floor. Melissa thought she heard more crying. She looked up and saw a flight attendant unbuckle her seat belt and stagger toward the open bin, practically crawling down the aisle to reach the loose bags, now semi-lethal projectiles inside the cabin.
     
    Even when things get really bad, there's always someone willing to be a hero. The thought comforted her, a little. She closed her eyes and gripped the