At the door, she turned back one final time.
“Some women simply don’t know how to appreciate beautiful things.”
I smiled.
“And some beautiful things don’t know how to behave.”
She disappeared into the terminal, leaving a trail of perfume behind her.
I paid for Emily’s gift, tucked it safely into my handbag, and headed toward my departure gate.
I was certain I would never see Brittany again.
I was wrong.
An Unwelcome Reunion at Thirty-Five Thousand Feet
My flight was almost full.
As I approached my row, I noticed an elderly gentleman struggling to lift his carry-on bag into the overhead compartment.
I hurried forward and helped steady it.
“Thank you,” he said, adjusting his glasses. “I was beginning to think that bag weighed more than I did.”
“Perhaps it has more years left in it,” I replied.
He laughed.
“My name is Harold.”
“Martha.”
We settled into our seats and exchanged a few polite remarks about the flight.
