The heaps of eggshell clouds encase the land behind, leaving you in awe. You notice the man adjacent to you begin to fidget uncontrollably. His glass shakes in his hands, nearly spilling the contents. He grips the arm rest between you both.

You examine him more closely, seeing his graying hair and shaggy business attire, worn and wrinkled. He has a sharp chin and a tall structure.

You avert your eyes as his quaking grows more intense. He begins to breathe hard. After a while of being suspended in air, the hum of the plane, and the exasperated ventilations of the man nearby, you've had enough.

"Can you stop, sir? It's just a plane. Some would argue driving a car is more fatal," you respond with patience.

He did not respond verbally, rather he burned his eyes into the ceiling. More specifically something above you. You feel something fall on your forehead like a raindrop. You gaze up while simultaneously wiping the liquid off your face. It is crimson, with a trail leading from the compartment above to her.

If only you had sealed your luggage tighter.