We had stayed put, mostly. Mostly at home. Mostly inside.

It was our first trip outside the city for a year. Staying in the country, we flew north. Even if the journey was just thirty-five minutes short, being on an airplane compounded the thrilling sense of departing.

Shortly after take-off, I looked towards the panel above my head. Life Vests Inside, it read. Push, it read.

Ordinarily, the panel reads, less ambiguously, Life Vest Inside. Even on this very plane, that’s what most of the panels said, because if one were to plummet towards a watery demise, inside, one would find a consolatory life vest.

For some reason, this panel spoke differently.

Having been inside for so long - the city, the apartment, the narrow alleys of my tiny, congested mind - getting out seemed to be the answer. It was my reason for being on a plane. Yet this earnest panel reminded me of what I already knew. Inside is where life vests. Search for it out, down, up or around, as much as you please, but inside is where it necessarily remains.

Just push.