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The plane dives. I sense its tilt, the nose pointing almost straight down as it speeds through the clouds. I sit in a rear row and can see over the seats in front of me. There is no cockpit door – no cockpit in fact. I know/sense that there’s a large windshield where the cockpit should be, but I can’t see it. The ground below seems both far and near, approaching quickly yet taking longer than I expect. I hear the screams but see no one.

I’m going to die.

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I remember the call and the words I used and the things she said in response.  I think I will always remember them.

“Can you tell me how long the placement will be?”

“Oh, this little boy is not going home,” came the response.

I of course knew better at the time…or did I?

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