My girlfriend’s face is frozen. She’s squeezing my hand like a vise grip. The screeching gets worse. Passengers press call buttons, while flight attendants buzz around like bees willy-nilly, hovering over them. I look out the window. White. Everywhere.

The screeching is deafening, and now blue smoke fills the cabin.

Debbie L. Miller writes from Brooklyn, New York, where she writes short stories, plays, monologues, personal essays, memoir, flash fiction, feature articles, and humor pieces.