‘Hey.’ Two hands now. One holding each of mine. Mine were all tense and when I looked at them my fingers were twisted around each other, bent, tight. I tried to straighten them but I couldn’t. ‘Hey.’ Two hands, holding mine, pressing gently into my palms. I took a breath, another, another, gulped them down, desperately thirsty for air. Gasping. My chest was so tight and there was a sound in my throat, a hammering wailing.

‘Slower, Caitie.’

But I didn’t want to breathe slower. There wasn’t enough air; I needed more. There wasn’t enough air and I was going to die. Suffocate.

Thumbs pressing into my palms, firm but gentle. ‘Caitie. Hey.’ Pressing. ‘Slow.’

‘I’m dying.’

‘No.’ Pressing, rolling. ‘No, you’re not.’

‘I’m sorry, Leen, I’m sorry. I’m—’

‘It’s okay. You’re fine, Caitie. I promise.’ My hands dropped free. ‘Thanks. Thanks, she’s okay. We just need a minute, sorry.’ Far away.

‘Leen?’ I reached out. My heart thundered. Thudded. Thrashed. Cold. Awful.

‘I’m here.’ A plastic cup. Cold on my lips. ‘Drink, Cait.’

I tried. I felt some spill down my chin but some rolled over my tongue. Cold. Strange. I swallowed. It hurt. More. Swallowed again. Something cold at the back of my neck, another hand, pressing.

‘Good.’ She sighed, picked up my hands again. ‘Good. Now breathe. Slowly.’

I tried, but everything was still racing.

‘Count to five.’

I did. Back to zero. No time left. Not ready. I let out a sound, tried to tell her.

‘Again.’

And again. Slowly.

And again. And again.

I focused on the feeling of her thumbs rolling around on my palms. Circles. Small at first. Then bigger. Smaller. Slow, then fast, then slow.

I blinked. The fog cleared, just a little.

I was in an exit row, and Lina was kneeling in front of me, head down. I traced the part in her hair with my eyes. I could see her eyelashes flickering, see her breathing, her lips moving as she whispered things I couldn’t hear. Her hands holding mine.

‘Leen,’ I said finally, as it lifted, whatever it was. Much too slowly. My voice was raw, like I’d been crying.

She looked up. Her eyes were red, glassy, wide, her lips pale, mouth tight. Impossibly sad. Impossibly scared.

‘Are you okay?’ she asked, impossibly small.

I nodded. My heart was still racing and I felt dizzy but the dread had passed. I just felt tired. Tired and awful.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said, looking around. Two flight attendants stood in the aisle, holding towels and cups of water. Otherwise, the plane was empty. I felt a surge of embarrassment. ‘I’m so sorry, Lina.’

‘It’s okay.’

‘What is wrong with me?’ I asked. My throat hurt.

She took a breath.