[ WP ] You are on flight 4613 landing in the Denver Airport . As the plane grounds your pilot announces airplane mode can be turned off . You turn it off and check the news . Flight 4613 has crashed with no survivors .

I am not a religious person. I am not one to believe in the supernatural. I would not even say I think often. I let the world pass me by, and I am okay with that. So maybe I am not the best person to relay the events. Oh well, I did not get to choose this either. 
 
 
 The ground was clouded in morning fog. The sun above was a pale star. It was quiet and we disembarked. The girl was still crying. She reminded me why I did n't like children. Her bawls were ignored. I wondered where were her parents. Something was happening, but I did n't know what it was. 
 
 
 The plane was glistening, slippery in the light. I walked slow so that the girl would pass me and I would not have to see her again. I took out my phone and put it on. The airport ahead seemed so far. The girl walked ahead slowly and she looked back and was still crying. 
 
 
 `` I do n't know where my mommy is,'' she said. 
 
 
 I looked at my phone pretending not to hear. The notifications came endlessly. All the people asking if I was okay. The mourning of my disappearance. Was it a joke? I looked up. She was sobbing still. 
 
 
 `` My mommy is not dead yet,'' she said. 
 
 
 I ran ahead. The others gave unfriendly looks. The security stopped me, told me to slow down, but they were hardly there. The odd art of Denver towered over the place. Inside the murals grew like a jungle and this was their home. 
 
 
 `` Mommy! Mommy!'' I heard from behind. 
 
 
 I looked at the phone and the updates were still coming. My plane had crashed. I had died. Everyone had died. 
 
 
 I tried calling my brother but there was no signal. I tried messaging him and others on Facebook but nothing would send. 
 
 
 `` My mommy does n't have cancer like you and me,'' the girl said. 
 
 
 She had come back next to me. Her face was wet but she seemed more composed. I hated her so much. I wanted to hit her. I wanted to get in contact with someone. 
 
 
 `` She is n't here. Her plane is coming later. I might have to sleep here. I heard there was a big horsey here though, so I do n't mind.'' 
 
 
 `` What?'' I said. I wanted her to go. I was hardly listening. 
 
 
 `` Do you have anybody to wait for?'' 
 
 
 `` My cousin,'' I said. `` They're going to pick me up.'' 
 
 
 Remembering that made things better. I could go meet them and find out what was happening. 
 
 
 `` How did they go? Was it cancer too?'' 
 
 
 What was she on? I looked at her. 
 
 
 `` What are you talking about? Why do n't you go and meet your mother?'' 
 
 
 `` Her flight is n't coming for a long time,'' she said. `` I have to wait for her.'' 
 
 
 `` I hope you're okay then.'' 
 
 
 I walked off. 
 
 
 The baggage claim was sparse and it was n't hard to get my things. Outside in the lobby, the windows were fogged and the sun was a golden aura that broke free sometimes, tinting the glass. There was hardly anyone sitting. My cousins were n't there. 
 
 
 I checked my phone again and there was that same story about the plane crash. My cousins posted their distraught. I tried messaging them. I tried calling. I wanted to tell them that the plane had landed fine and that I was okay. I never got through though. 
 
 
 I could n't help it. I broke down crying from the frustration. The girl came beside me. 
 
 
 `` You should n't be carrying a telephone if you're crying so, Mr. Jones. You might drop it.'' 
 
 
 She patted my back. How did she know my last name? Was it a guess. 
 
 
 `` I'm sorry. I know how you feel. Cheer up though. At least your mommy is here for you. Look!'' 
 
 
 I could n't understand. I looked where she was pointing and my phone started to ring. The number nearly killed me. I trembled and fell and answered it without thinking. The cold floor of the airport seeped through me and I wanted to curl up. 
 
 
 `` Hello?'' 
 
 
 `` Bobby?'' 
 
 
 It was my mother. I looked up and she was sitting to the back in the mostly empty room. She was older and a little tired, but she looked just as I remembered her. 
 
 `` You must be a good son for her to wait for you,'' the girl said. `` I'm going to see the horsey now. You take care okay?'' 
 
 I got up and fell again. My mother came to me and I saw her face. It was really her. It was just as I remembered her before she had died.
