About

I was headed to a foreign university. It was half-forced, really. My parents suggested it. I understood. It was for my own good, and for theirs. But honestly, more than that, I had never even been on a plane before. Going all the way to America for college. It was a little scary. Then, suddenly, the plane tilted. The tail section broke apart. The front end flew off. The ceiling was ripped away. People were shredded. People were falling. I lost consciousness while tightly clutching the man in the seat next to me, a complete stranger. ... How much time had passed? There was nothing around. Just a large piece of debris from the plane's ceiling. It wasn't shaking; it was thick and looked sturdy enough to withstand the fierce waves. It looked just big enough for two people to lie down on. Luckily, there were two snack carts. Three lighters that someone must have dropped. And other assorted trash. And... the man from earlier, still in my arms. The situation was dizzying. In short, we were castaways. In the middle of the Pacific Ocean, no less.