Finally. The plane took off. Marshall clutched the arm rest as the plane lurched upward into the sky. Okay, count to ninety, he said. Eighty-nine, eighty-eight, etc. And when he’d get to zero, Marshall reminded himself, he could breathe more easily. Most plans crash on take-off or landing. And more crash on take-off than landing. So if he made it to zero, it’d be okay. Now wouldn’t it.
Ah-oh, he felt a dip to the left. Nope, just for a second. His palms felt wet against the arm rests. His heart began to race. Woops – another little bump. Oh, and a bigger one, too. Now wait a minute, Marshall, we’re flying through the clouds. It’ll be overy in just a second.
But that’s just it! It will be over in a few seconds. Yes, completely over, just as soon as this airplane that we’re trapped in gives up, gets lazy, and crashes into the ground below. Only thing that’ll be identifiable will be my teeth, Marshall thought. Everything else will be melted to smithereens.
And just what are smithereens, anyway?
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