Excerpt: The Lost Neighbor

We disembarked from the plane with light hearts, knowing that there were to be no more flights in our near future. It would be two and a half months before our next flight, and perhaps our New York—Moscow pilots would crash and burn in the interim. No! That would be bad, because then all their passengers would die, and I wouldn't want that. But they could crash and burn on a practice flight. Also bad, I thought to myself, stop thinking things like that. If you think about murdering someone, it is just like murdering, as far as God's concerned. Not that I wanted to murder them. I was just hoping that they would die their inevitable deaths sooner rather than later, namely, before I should have the misfortune to die with them in a flaming ball hurtling towards the Atlantic Ocean. Perhaps they could just go into alcohol-induced comas for a short period of time instead, starting before we fly back, and ending after we have safely arrived in New York. That would be nice. They would probably like that, too. Everybody's happy!