On this sunny and warm afternoon, Manuela sat sipping her black coffee, inhaling her cigarette smoke and picking at her cuticles, alternately.... high above, an airplane hummed its passing by.
The contents of her stomach fighting to hurl up the earlier lunch, while she fought back tears. No one she knew on Germanwings Flight 4U9525, yet, the overwhelming sadness in her was undeniable; she felt a deep loss.
It was a deep loss of trust, as she thought about the times she trusted more the pilots of the planes she flew, than perhaps that one particular physician in her entire life...
How will she ever be able to climb upon such magnificent flying contraption again and trust? As she now realized the enormous trust placed upon them in the past. Honest, spontaneous, unquestioning trust.
She felt no longer capable to do so. Would she demand a look into the eyes of both pilot and co-pilot next time, would she board hoping to safely land. Possibly many others feel this way today. How soon will it take for this feeling to fade away? And how much scotch would have to be consumed to ease the panic of the memory? No question she would have to trust.
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