"Am I?" Tristan parried question with a question. "Maybe I should wonder if my next dream will be prophetic as well."
Derek pressed his lips together and shook his head, at a loss for words. Instead of talking, he busied himself with checking his seatbelts and putting his tablet into its protective travel case.
Soon the steward returned with a microphone, which he gave to Tristan. He thanked her.
"Passengers," he said as a test.
Tristan's voice, somewhat tinny from the poor microphone quality, came from the dynamics placed over the short length of the plane. The two dozen people who were discussing the alarming events in place between each other, paused.
