Mayday

Craig leans over the armrest and looks deep into Meg's eyes.

"So, you know how when planes are going down, people start having last-minute sex, and blowing each other and stuff?"

Meg glares back intensely.

"No, they don't. They usually think quietly to themselves and pray."

"Right," and Craig leans further, lowering his voice, "But I was just thinking --"

"No!" shoots back Meg. "I'm not going to have sex with someone I've only known for four hours. And isn't that your girlfriend right beside you?"

Rejected, Craig leans over to the arm rest on the other side.

"Hey, Jen--" he starts to a pair of crossed arms, but she doesn't let him finish.

"Don't even talk to me."

Bilaterally rebuked, Craig slumps back in his chair. Through the tiny window, he gazes at the turbine-in-flames dangling from the plane's wing, and ponders the steep angle of the horizon, as the plane continues its steady and speedy descent.

He thinks quietly to himself and prays, but it is in vain. Craig will die a virgin of high-altitude love-making.