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Flying, Falling

Sleep was pulling his features down. It danced around the edges of his eyes, slackened his jaw, made his head dip. Inescapably, irresistibly, wondrously sleepy. Dreams pooled at the edges of his mind. They soothed his aching head, relaxed his muscles. He started slipping away. He was only dimly aware that his hands had fallen from the yoke. They rested perfectly in his lap. His altitude was dropping, sinking like he was sinking, pulled under. Light flashed in the cockpit, buzzards sounded. Louder. His eyes drifted open…
Suddenly he was slammed into wakefulness. Gripping the yoke, he jerked—too late?



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