The window Seat to nowhere

"I was on a plane, not sure where it was headed, and I had the window seat, which felt like a small win for no reason. The clouds outside were too soft, almost like someone had painted them on, gold light spilling over everything even though I couldn't tell what time it was supposed to be. Nobody was sitting next to me, or someone was but I never looked over, just a presence, easy to ignore. Engine hum was low and steady, almost like breathing, and I remember my shoulders dropping like I hadn't realized they'd been tight. At some point the plane was flying lower than planes do, over fields and a river, and I could see tiny houses with their lights on, and I just watched them slide by without wanting anything. No worry about landing, no thought about what came after. Seat felt warmer, blanket appearing over my lap without me asking. Woke up slowly, still feeling that gentle drift."