Anxious

Space travel made Danny anxious. As the attendant tightened the straps on his acceleration couch, a thousand terrible scenarios flooded his mind.

Fuel explosion on the launch pad. Fire inside the cabin, boosted by the oxygen mix. Engine misfire, acceleration miscalculation, wormhole collapse, the list spewed endlessly forth. He nibbled at a fingernail, though he could barely latch onto what was left below the quick.

The flight crew assistants performed the safety demonstration. Danny hummed a tune in his head, drowning out their enactments of atmosphere decompression.

The woman on the couch next to him whispered, "I hate this part."

"Me too," said Danny.

"Why do they bother? Most space travel mishaps are fatal. We won't have time to pray let alone dress in an evac suit."

Danny nodded. Leave me alone.

But the woman droned on about her cat dying during shipping twenty years ago and how the fleet had no idea how to safely ship a box of tissues let alone human cargo.

Danny tried to squirm away from her, but the straps held him immobile. Please let it be over soon.

The engines fired. No wait! I didn't mean it like that. Please make her stop talking. I don't want the flight to be over soon. I misspoke. Please, I--

The secondary rockets fired. On a standard mission, they don't activate until the ship reaches the outer atmosphere. Fortunately for Danny, he didn't have time for a scream of death. No time to feel the pain before his brain vapourized.