The sun hits his eyes and blinds them momentarily. There's the rumbling of the plane around him, the chafing of the seatbelt, and a deep, dark pit in his stomach. Something rolls in that pit, something vicious and scared, like a trapped alligator. He stares ahead, refusing to watch the runway speed by. A second later his heart shoots back and sticks to the backside of his ribcage, but it's just the takeoff. He's never liked this part of flying.
Once they are in the air he gives in and looks out the window. Manhattan is becoming smaller. It's like the ending of a movie before the credits start to roll. The streets look tiny, the humans like ants. Maybe if he looks hard he'll find June's apartment. Find her sitting with her granddaughter on the rooftop balcony sipping tea. Maybe that dark dot is Elizabeth, back from some function or other to meet up with Peter for lunch. Maybe he'll tell her about him and maybe she'll cry. 'I can't believe it,' she'd say, and they will stay in and order takeout tonight because Peter can't take his head off El's shoulder. Satchmo will come and lick their hands, but won't get a treat because Elizabeth has put him on a diet. They'll go to bed and talk (or not talk) about him. They'll make love, take comfort in each other's arms like two lost birds, and life will move on without him.
Light catches his eye and he looks down. There's water underneath them now. He looks away from the window and the images fade with the city already behind them. New images take their place. Sandy beaches and stands that sell coconut milk in shells. A breeze on his face and the sharp smell of algae in his nostrils. Mozzie is resourceful. They are probably on their way to paradise and a return to the old days. They'll run scams, make millions of dollars, spend days drinking coconut milk and nights sipping Mai Tai next to half-exposed cleavage. It will be glorious and New York will be a distant memory in the past. A smile touches his lips and he absorbs the warmth of the rays gently caressing his face.