She could feel a sneeze coming on and, hoping for a huge, juicy one, she turned her head toward the candle a few inches away from her head and aimed all that wind and wet at extinguishing the flame.
It was full dark by now, and time to try to sleep anyhow.
"Good timing, sneeze" she muttered.
Amelia rolled over onto her back and shoved her Flight Log turned Castaway Journal under her head. She lay with her eyes wide open, listening to the surf and staring up at the stars.

There they were again, all those stars, all those billions of gorgeous, incandescent stars winking arrogantly at her from their place in the heavens. Hell, from her place in the heavens.

I should be up there - God, why couldn't I have been bothered to learn?

The stars she railed silently against really had no interest in making her feel bad - in frightened lady pilots at all, really - just the same she felt mocked, she felt insulted, she felt ridiculed by their glittering derision.