We were dying.

Not turbulence. Not when we shudder and think we’ll die then don’t.

We glided through invisible gravel then tipped nosedown and fell.

We were falling down.

A lot of children were wailing.

Men brushed past the aisles. They were crazy for somewhere calm they could be just by moving calm.

The tight cold plane air swam with sneezes.

Everyone was clumsy and hysterical.

We have a problem, the pilot said through the speaker, very faint. We have an issue. It was a very sexy voice like crackling velvet. But this was no time to dwell on that.

We were dying.

What shall we do, I said so the boy next to me would hear.  But he was snoring hunched with big headphones clamped over his ears. His mouth pressed the pay-per-view entertainment screen. He didn’t have on entertainment. He had on the display that shows you where the plane is and how much is left. We were in the Pacific with two hours left. There was a yellow line to show where we had been. It was still.

Can’t I call my daughter, a woman behind me asked an attendant. Can I call my daughter.

I’m so sorry. If you do we all will and we can’t.

We dropped like a weight twirling again and again. It was hard to tell how fast. The sky was just blue and, slowly, darker blue.

The NO SMOKING sign dinged on our faces red as heaven.

All shrieking now.

I’m sorry, the pilot said. Thank you, he said for some reason.

My neighbor sighed asleep.

Everyone was yammering like that could change things once and for all.

I opened so wide to it. I wanted everyone inside me looping again and again. But it was so loud I couldn’t hear.

 We were dying.

I’m sorry, could you repeat that, I wanted to ask everyone. Wait, could you please repeat that.

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Selen Ozturk is a San Francisco-based writer born in Istanbul. Her writing appears or will soon in Evergreen Review, Hobart, California Quarterly, San Francisco Chronicle, and SFGATE. She has received support from Bread Loaf and Grub Street. She holds a philosophy degree from UC Berkeley and works as a journalist. Find her work at freeverse.blog