Terminal Thinking

Two minutes before I hit the ground.

I test the parachutes again, as if maybe this time they’ll work. They don’t.

One hundred seconds before I hit the ground.

I look around, as if there’s someone else falling who I can grab onto. There isn’t.

Seventy seconds before I hit the ground.

I utter a prayer, as if there’s anyone up there who can hear me. They can’t.

Thirty seconds before I hit the ground.

I try to shut my eyes, as if ignoring the oncoming impact will work, as if I can just wish myself to safety.

I can.