The attendant’s look said: Not today.
Across the aisle, an elderly man leaned forward like he’d been waiting for his moment.
“Maybe you should’ve thought about that before you booked a flight,” he muttered.
The sentence landed on Raya’s skin like a slap.
She wanted to tell him she had thought about it. She had thought about everything. She had thought about driving until she remembered her Honda had coughed smoke three weeks ago and died in the diner parking lot like an animal giving up. She had thought about borrowing money and remembered there was no one left to ask. She had thought about staying home and then pictured her sister’s wedding photos, and how her own absence would become proof of every accusation Carmen had ever thrown at her.
Raya swallowed, hard. Her mouth tasted like cheap coffee and panic.
Somewhere nearby, someone’s phone camera lifted. Not subtle. Not hidden.
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