We have been adrift in the sky for about two hours when the pilot's frantic voice crackles on the overhead speakers. Apparently, an insurmountably large flock of birds has flown into the engines, a fatal bird strike.

Passengers wail as hysteria overwhelms us. Children cry and adults scream, fiddling hopelessly with oxygen masks.

Garbled instructions from the flight crew no longer reach me.

The plane begins to dip and decline in its path, plummeting towards the ocean beneath.

It is tragically beautiful.

I suppose I always knew this is how I would end: without her.