Two Hundred and Thirty-Nine.

That’s two hundred and thirty-nine lives.

That’s over two hundred souls, vanished. Like dust in the noonday light; floating and basking and falling, landing into a neat nook, completely gone to the naked eye.

No signs of wreckage, no conclusive debris found.

Over two hundred souls on board. Did they even have the time react to whatever that came their way? How many seconds of prayer did they have to make peace with the lives they have lead?

67 hours on and no distress calls, no Emergency Locator Transmitter, no signals of any sort. Nothing.

Two hundred and thirty-nine lives.

Two hundred and thirty-nine souls.

The world suddenly seems a lot smaller and bigger at the same time.

“You know you’re fucked when those late night thoughts start hitting you in the middle of the day.”

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