Quiet, except for the heavy, ceaseless thunder of the jet pushing through the air. In the galley, the flight attendants chatted soundlessly with each other, flipped through magazines. I breathed carefully and quietly, as though I were hiding from an intruder in the bedroom closet. For a few minutes I just stared into the leaden air and processed what I knew: I had successfully boarded a plane to Italy. I had taken my pill and drunk my water and listened to my music and slept. So far, so good. At this hour, we were halfway there. We had been in the air for a good four hours. Joe! It came to me like an ice cube down my back. The last message I read was from Joe and, perhaps it was just my imagination, but I was pretty sure he said he was getting divorced. Joe, divorced. Me, engaged. My pulse quickened, bile rose in my throat. Could that be right? I reached for my phone. It was powered down. Was I allowed to turn it on in airplane mode? I wasn’t sure.
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