There is a story about a woman who's afraid of flying. She's on a long, traversing flight, sitting next to a stranger. Throttle up, and she bottoms out. Pull the window shade closed and tune out. It's not enough.
She turns to her neighbor. "Excuse me, sir," she utters, almost whispers, timidly. "I was wondering, I'm really sorry, but would you mind--I get really nervous in airplanes and I was wondering if it would be ok if I held your hand for just a while, just until we're on the ground, just until I know I'm ok."
He's a little taken aback. Puts down his magazine. Offers his left hand and she takes it. They ring each other's fingers. Warm hands, clammy and apprehensive. She trembles slightly, holds on tightly. It's not enough. It doesn't quite... allay.
I was wondering, if it would be ok, if you wouldn't mind... And then she is resting her head on his shoulder. If you wouldn't mind, would you please, if you're comfortable... And then he is telling her about