The Countdown
The plane landed late . . . or on time. Hard to tell these days. Never early in spite of head winds or tail winds--those predictable, non-pilot-error excuses. So, she wasn't worried. She'd started the countdown as the plane began the descent and every time those words scrolled through her brain, she thought of her mother, the eternal sportswoman, forever enamored with games and keeping score on any and everything. Which is what she mumbled, inadvertently mumbled, to the young guy sitting next to her, "Time for the countdown," she said. "Huh?" He obviously didn't expect anybody to talk to him, poor guy, alone as she was, but she was used to the peace of solitude (or was it freedom?) and he was too young to know it was okay to be alone. "The count- down ," she repeated helpfully and more slowly, with a clarifying emphasis on the word "down." No respons...
