"I haven't seen their black friend over there much," I said. "Or, not very often." Yeah," my wife said. "He planted the seed and now he's off planting it in other wombs, I suppose." If I hadn't known my wife didn't care for that Idea (or at least she had said she didn't), I could have sworn there was a slight tinge of...envy(?) to it.But she went on. "I saw that young black guy the other day, Several blocks from here. You know just where I saw him?" Where?" I replied. Intrigued."He was going into Cheryl and Doug's house." Cheryl and Doug's? I don't who that is." Yes you do," my wife snapped. "Cheryl and Doug are that missionary couple we talked to a couple of months ago at the neighborhood citizen's association." Oh yes," I replied, suddenly recalling that conversation. "Them. Weren't they the ones who'd been involved in that controversy in North Carolina a few years ago...because of that African guy who had this kind of cult?" That's them," my wife replied. "So, the same young black. The takeoff was smoother than I expected. The pilot was obviously skilled though he looked more like a mechanic. We were in a steady climb when I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. The engines, now that we were airborne, sounded more even and confident. I let them lull me to sleep. ++++++++++++++++++++ The alarm woke me rudely. I reached over, as if at home, and found the window instead of the snooze. I opened my eyes and felt the plane in a steep climb. The alarm was insistent, and the plane climbed harder. I looked out and saw nothing but white, thick clouds. I heard the pilot shouting. It sounded like encouragement, not instructions. He was yelling at his plane, not to us. My hands gripped the armrests as the mother in front of me called out. She received no response, and her child was staring at me from over her shoulder. He looked more curious than frightened. I gave him a forced smile as we came out of the clouds. ‘Fuck!’ I yelled as I saw the trees. I could count the.
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