Cleo's body pitches as the plane yaws dangerously left, her head snapping to the side, the seatbelt fastened over her lap, the only thing keeping her from tumbling into the narrow aisle. The plane then dives, and Cleo is momentarily weightless. Her heart lodges in her throat, her stomach floating in her torso. Being weightless for the first time is an unsettling feeling. Cleo relates it to the rickety roller coaster she once rode with her best friend at a carnival. Never again, she told herself. The oxygen masks drop, and she tenses her arms to keep them from flailing and grabs the mask. She secures it over her mouth and nose as the flight attendant had mimed just an hour earlier. The other passengers are screaming and shouting and gasping around her. Cleo can’t seem to make a noise. A drink cart barrels down the aisle, crashing into knees and running over feet. The plane attempts to even out but then drops gut-wrenchingly, the seat belt pressing into her lower abdomen. Cleo is terrified that her plane will crash in the Indian Ocean.

She sees her life passing before her eyes, and with it, the clear memory of her purchasing this ticket and her excitement mixed with anxiety over taking this adventure alone. Until this moment, her trip had been memorable. She visited many ancient sites in Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam, and India. This plane is meant to take her to South Africa to complete her bucket list trip and stay a week with her aunt and uncle on the coast. But that reality seems questionable as the plane lurches again to the left. Much less real than the memories she has made these past four weeks.

A screeching sound of metal tearing fills the cabin. Cleo wants to be home. She wishes she’d never made the trip. Her hands are wet with fear, and her muscles tense against each new tremor. Cleo steals a glance out the window. The wing hangs loose, banging against the exterior of the plane. She feels ill. The plane begins a slow spin to the left. It’s spinning like a top. It will fall flat into the ocean. They have inflatable rafts for this possibility; she tries to reason. But they are still thousands of feet in the air. The impact will kill them all.

The image of her decision to book with the tour group, purchase the tickets, buy the outfits, get the vaccines, and pack her bags overwhelm her senses. They filter out the screaming and nervous energy happening around her. The plane is still falling. It’s falling fast. The man next to her is throwing up in his paper bag. A woman across the aisle is holding her baby tightly against her chest. It’s chaos. It’s an end she had never even considered.

She’s there, at her desk, in her mind. Or maybe it’s the pure oxygen pouring into her lungs, affecting her ability to grasp the moment’s truth. Perhaps it’s some chemical reaction to her current circumstances. Whatever the cause, Cleo is grateful for the interruption from this nightmare.

She’s gripping both handles of her chair, fingernails looking for purchase on the hard plastic finish. She forces her physical reality out of her mind and refocuses on the steps taken to arrive here. She smells the cup of coffee on her desk, feels the keyboard under her fingertips, remembers the sense of freedom this trip would afford her, and sees the flight information begging her to complete the transaction. Just do it, she tells herself. You deserve to see the world. When will you have this opportunity again? Then, as she’s about to click the Book Now button, she envisions an alternate outcome. The cursor moves away from the button, travels up the right-hand side of the screen to the corner of the open window, and closes the tab. She’s altering her memory as if this could change her present. She’s experiencing all the sensations of being in that moment and willfully changing her mind.