Suddenly, the Room Shrinks
He stopped talking.
Then breathing heavily.
His hand clutched his chest. His face turned pale, lips gray. His fingers trembled.
I glanced over—and the nurse in me snapped awake.
“Sir? Are you okay?”
He didn’t answer—just squeezed his arm and gasped.
I shot up. “He’s in cardiac distress. I’m a nurse—he needs help now!”
Flight attendants scrambled. I gently eased him back, elevated his legs, crushed aspirin and placed it in his mouth. His hands clutched mine like a child’s.
“I—don’t want to die,” he whispered.
“You’re not going to,” I said. “You’re going to see your kids again. Stay with me, Daniel.”
That was the first time I heard his name.
