"You really used to work in aviation?"
"For a very long time."
"What was the most frightening flight you ever took?"
Margaret considered the question. She could have told him about a storm diversion to Montana in the eighties, or a runway closure that kept her awake until morning, or the night an aircraft returned with an engine problem and the entire operations team stood silently while the crew brought it down. But Thomas did not need a collection of old fears. He needed a way to keep his own fear from becoming an enemy.
"The flights I remember most aren't the ones with the worst weather," she said. "They're the ones where someone was afraid and no one explained what was happening. Not knowing can make a harmless sound seem terrible."
Thomas looked down at his hands. "My father died in a plane crash when I was twelve. A small private aircraft. I know it's irrational to think the same thing will happen every time I fly, but knowing that hasn't helped me much."
Margaret felt the honesty in his words. She did not respond with the easy reassurance strangers often offered, the kind that tried to erase fear simply because it was inconvenient to witness. She told him she was sorry about his father and waited while he looked toward the window. Then she asked whether he wanted to talk through the noises they might hear on takeoff.
He nodded. So she explained the ordinary sounds of an aircraft leaving the ground, the changes in engine tone, the movement of high-lift devices, and the occasional thump of landing gear retracting. She made no promise that flying involved no risk. She only promised that when something made a sound, she would tell him what she knew rather than leave him alone with his imagination.
"That would help," he said. "Thank you."
When the safety demonstration began, Margaret listened as carefully as she had in seat 34B. She had helped approve earlier generations of passenger briefings and knew that familiarity could turn a useful warning into background noise. She checked the nearest usable exits, watched Chloe point them out, and tightened her belt snugly across her hips. Thomas followed her example, though his fingers still trembled.
At the forward end of the cabin, Richard Taylor was already asleep across the cushion that now stood empty beside him. Miller had returned twice to offer water and once to make sure the reading light was comfortable. Margaret watched a passing reflection of them in the dark window and wondered how the economics of a premium ticket had become confused with the basic human duty to notice another person. The aircraft pushed back, turned slowly across the wet apron, and began its journey west.