boarding pass.
Grandma studied it for several seconds before carefully slipping it into the side pocket of her purse.
Beside something old and yellowed that I only caught a glimpse of.
“Thank you,” she told the agent.
Then she turned toward me.
“Grandma, that ticket cost me more than I want to think about.”
“I know, sweetheart.”
“Then why would you give it up?”
She reached for my hand.
Her fingers felt cold.
“I’d rather sit in the back.”
And that was all she would tell me.
—
I should explain
