Different aircraft, but the same number and the same route.
I didn’t question her.
I simply started saving.
And when the time finally came, I booked her first class.
Seat 3A.
I wanted her to have everything.
Space.
Comfort.
A real meal.
A seat that reclined almost flat.
She was turning eighty and facing something she had avoided for twenty-seven years.
I wanted the experience to feel special.
