Galway Review 8 - April 2020

pack it. But at least he had his medication. He patted his
shirt pocket and was reassured by the sound of the little
pills rattling around in the plastic bottle. He considered
popping a tablet into his mouth but decided to wait until
he had a coffee to help wash it down.
A male voice crackled across the intercom – the pilot
making an announcement in Spanish. Based on the
rapid retreat of the stewardess and the way she
disappeared into her seat, Leo guessed they were in for
turbulence.
The plane dropped. The fall was so sudden that
someone screamed. Another drop, more severe, soon
followed. Leo gripped his armrest with one hand and
pressed the diary to his heaving stomach with the other.
An overhead locker shot open and a bundle slowly
unfurled. A coat. Its hem caught on the latch and the
dangling sleeves swayed as the plane shook, almost
like laundry on a clothes line. The fair-haired woman’s
handbag fell too. Coins from her open purse rained
down like hailstones. More of her belongings dropped
out and scattered when the bag hit the floor. Hairbrush,
lip balm, mints, wallet, paracetamol, tissues, keyring,
postcards. Leo silently named the individual items to
distract himself. When he was finished, things had
settled and he relaxed slightly, but then the plane
lurched upwards and that was even worse than falling,
as if the laws of gravity were being mocked. A bearded
man across the aisle took out a rosary. His fingers
moved quickly from bead to bead, so quickly that the
only prayer he could have been saying was a one word
plea for help.
21