The word over at OneWord is "orbit." Sixty seconds. Here you go:
His orbit was in a steady decay and there was no bailing out. He’d have to ride it out, ride right through her atmosphere, praying that his shielding remained intact. It was going to be a bumpy ride. Sweat beaded on his brow. He took a bandana out of his back pocket to mop, she intercepted his hand, squeezed and swiped the red swath of cloth.
“The contractions are like 10 minutes apart,” she said “Focus.”