Papercup in one hand and my other hand twisted around his arm, wrinkling his shirt. I looked at him he seemed peacefull and I held on, feeling knots in my stomach between these turbulent shakes and the need to put the papercup down in the pocket infront of me.
If I untwist my arm then I might be caught alone to feel the shakes of the plane swooping through the clouds. So do I do it? Or just not reach over to do what I want for the support of a familiar and strong hand who will craddle me to safety by squeezing my fingers back.