The glass shattered
first and then the roof shook resoundingly.
One
would think it should be the other way around. First the roof shake and then
the glass breaking. Warnings came first. One would expect the warning to come
first, a herald to danger. But no; the glass shattered first and then the roof
shook resoundingly.
But
this wasn’t real.
He
was in an aeroplane.
Snorting, he
snatched the first breath of sudden awakening and stared around him. Right. The
flight from London to Glasgow.
When the
hostess leaned over him, he requested a double brandy. Damn, his nerves were
shot. It was probably due to the coming meeting. His entire livelihood depended
on a positive result.
He clutched
the plastic tumbler when it was handed to him, staring into the amber depths.
Dear God, let it work out all right or he would lose everything.
There were
shadows in the liquid and he grimaced, thinking a fly or, worse, a cockroach
had somehow got in. He snatched another sharp breath when he realised he saw an
explosion inside the small vessel he held in his hands, as if a tiny plane had
went up in a fireball in mid … liquid.
What was the
matter with him?
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