The main cabin door hissed as the crew swung it closed and locked the thick handle.

Over my head, the air vents started to hum with a cool, steady breeze.

The plane gave a gentle jolt as the heavy pushback tug latched onto the nose gear.

Gate C27 began sliding slowly backward out of sight, its silver loading bridge folding in against the terminal wall.

I rested my hands flat on my thighs and watched the brick terminal shrink into the distance, its windows going small and gold like a row of lit matches.

The long concourse windows glinted with the orange glow of the setting autumn sun.