Lost Devotion

10.

𝐸𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓇

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"Dear passengers, this is your captain speaking."
The speaker crachled over, drawing me to the present moment as I sat in the plane seat. We're about to take off from Monaco to London. The hostess began demonstrating the safety procedures, her voice seems like a hum as my thoughts drive me out again.

I passed the past two days at my apartment, not leaving it at all. Curled up in my blanket on my sofa, I tried to drown out the late moments of that horrific day. Faith got suspicious and called me several times, but I couldn't bring myself to answer. Hours later, she was at the door knocking persistently, refusing to let me wallow in isolation any longer. I told her I've got my period and needed some time to recover and relax. She understood, brought me some comfort food, and insisted on staying with me for a while.

It's sad how I can't tell her the truth.

Head heavy from all the thinking, I lean on the windowpane, staring out at the shifting clouds below. We must have taken off, but I didn't notice. I'm too tired to process anything right now.

I let my eyes close, welcoming the darkness. And as always, the memories come running back, like an unwelcome guest barging into my peaceful solitude. They come with all the images, the sounds, the emotions, draining me but I'm too exhausted to fight.

I hear the sounds of sirens and cries in my ears, I see different emotions playing across the people's faces;  sadness,  concern,  fear.

Even death.

If I could erase them all, would it be different from what is it now? Would I be still with Jason, both of us two happy lovebirds no more sitting in an apartment planning our future but actually
bringing in to reality? Would we be a happy family with Maria finally quitting her moving chair and taking her first steps?

Would she be still alive?

Overwhelmed by the weight of my thoughts and the pain they cause, I open my eyes, a tear falling down my cheek. My heart aches as I attempt to wipe away the tear, my fingers trembling.

"Bad memory?" The question interrupts my thoughts, making me turn to the passenger sitting next to me. A grown lady with kind eyes and sympathetic smile looks at me. She must be in her mid 40s wearing a burgundy coat, her short brown hair laying down on her shoulders.

"Yeah, something like that," I manage to smile a little, accepting the handkerchief she offers me. I thank her before using it to wipe away my tears before they start streaming down my face.

"Don't worry, you're not the only one," the lady adds kindly, her smile not fading at all.

"What do you mean?"

"Well," she starts, "look around," she signs to the whole plane, I listen to her carefully, "One plane, hundreds people, hundreds stories, hundreds futures and hundreds pasts." She sights before she continues, "Some already felts the grief and pain of traumatic pass, others are carrying the burden for it right now, and others are still unaware of what's to come." She turns to look at me in the eyes, "But we'll all find a way to move forward to heal."