I was flying a plane with no instruments

I'm in the cockpit, but the dials are all dark. No GPS, no altimeter—just the horizon and the stars. I know the route by heart, though: Larnaca to Nicosia, then east over the Troodos, where the sky turns silver. I don’t feel afraid. I just remember the old way—the way we used to fly before the numbers came. The co-pilot isn’t there. I’m alone, but not lonely. And then I wake up, still in bed, listening to the hum of the refrigerator like it’s a navigation beacon.