I didn’t even notice him at first.
I was deep into my audiobook, half-tuned out from the turbulence, and trying to pretend the guy beside me wasn’t sighing dramatically every time I shifted in my seat. And then I felt a small tug on my sleeve. A tiny hand. I looked down and there he was—this little boy, maybe three or four years old, red-eyed like he’d just stopped crying, staring up at me in the aisle like he was searching for something.
Before I could even ask him what was wrong, he climbed right into my lap.
Just curled up like he knew me. Like this was his spot.
