Tilly fished one of the magazines out of the seat pocket and offered it to me instead. I flipped through it until I saw her eyes close. Then I took out my notebook and, as I often did, jotted down what Tilly had said so I could try to make sense of it later. My notes ran back and forth in time, jumping from what I remembered to what I still had to figure out. The flight attendant brought me apple juice, which I gulped down before drifting back to sleep.

We were halfway across the Atlantic when Tilly began moaning. She was sniffling and blowing her nose, using a handful of crumpled tissues she had stuffed into her pocket. It looked like lifting her hand to her face caused her pain. Allergies, she had said. The flight attendant brought a small box of tissues, a shadow of concern behind her smile.

“Ma’am, is there anything I can get you?”

“Do you have anything for a headache?” she replied.

The flight attendant went to check and returned with a small bottle that rattled as she handed it to Tilly.

“Lucky for you, the pilot gets killer migraines.”

“Not that lucky,” Tilly said softly, with long spaces between her words. She’d grown pale again.

Her headache did not improve. She couldn’t get comfortable. I got out of my seat and asked the flight attendant for water with ice. The plane was dark then, with the window shades pulled down as we flew through a night sky. I walked back to my seat, almost losing my balance when the plane jostled slightly.

When I returned to the seat, I stopped short.

“Tilly!” I shouted.

Tilly was slumped on her side, her body convulsing as if controlled by a djinn. Her back stiffened and her limbs moved with a quick, jerking rhythm. I held her shoulders, feeling the turbulence in her body.

“No! No! Leave her!!” I shouted at the djinn to let her go. I wanted to call for help, but all the English I knew had flittered away like napkins caught in a gust of wind.

People around me slowly started to stir. Perhaps they thought I was a child having a tantrum or reliving the siege.

One meek overhead light clicked on, and then another. A man peered over his seat and, with one glimpse of Tilly’s face, began shouting. Emergency, I heard him call. In a flurry of movement, I was pushed aside. I could barely see past the tangle of people who had gathered, some to help and some to see what could possibly have made this day even worse.