August 22, 2011
Vincent walked to the back of the plane, to the very back where the seats didn’t properly recline, took his place by the window and hoped without much conviction that the two empty seats beside him would remain that way. Flight 966 left Toronto for Barbados every morning and it always seemed to be full. It was April 12th, the sky was overcast, but the airport crew working on the tarmac wore light jackets. Low season in the Caribbean would officially begin in three days time; winter had passed, summer would soon be here.
In the broadest of outlines, Vincent knew what he was doing here; he could trace his way back through a series of random events that inevitably led him to today’s seat assignment. It was harder for him to imagine why all the other passengers filing down the aisle had come to join him here today. There were couples on vacation, Barbadians going home, men and women on business.