Louise saw me fold it and said nothing. She simply placed her favorite stuffed rabbit beside it, as if both objects belonged to the same emergency plan. On the morning of our flight, she held Noah’s bottle while I checked our documents three times. Neither of us mentioned that Mark had always handled the passports. We did not need to.
The flight was full, and the only available seats placed Louise one row behind me. I settled into the aisle seat with Noah against my chest while she squeezed my shoulder from behind.
The woman beside me looked irritated before the doors had even closed.
“I can see you,” she said. “And I know how to press the call button.”
“Only for emergencies.”
“What about bad snacks?”
“Especially not.”
She wore a gray suit, pearl earrings, and the expression of someone already composing a complaint.
The woman beside me looked irritated before the doors had even closed. She wore a gray suit, pearl earrings, and the expression of someone already composing a complaint.
Then she looked at Noah.
