Turbulent Reunion

The silence between us had lasted three states and two thousand miles. Sitting in 14A,

I hadn’t looked at Alex once, though I could feel his breath hitched in the seat next

to mine. We were strangers again, bound only by a flight path and

the acrimonious memories of the day he walked out. I thought I had moved on,

until fate booked us into the same row. Then, the sky turned.

The plane jerked violently—a sudden drop that sent my heart into my throat. The overhead bins

groaned under the pressure, and for a moment, the cabin felt weightless. In that terrifying

second, the wall I’d built against him crumbled. I turned, and our eyes locked.