Not requested.
The agent eyed my cane, worn boots, and Maya’s old coat.
I could almost see him decide.
We looked least likely to complain.
I held up our boarding passes.
“These are our seats. I paid for them.”
The agent gave me a stiff smile.
“I understand, sir, but please don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”
Maya squeezed my hand.
I could have argued.
I could have mentioned two years of saving.
The coffee can.
Elena’s hospital room.
Her final request.
The ashes inside my bag.
But Maya was watching me.
So I looked down at her and smiled.
“Maybe the seats in the back will be fun. We’ll get to see the whole plane.”
She nodded.
But tears were forming.
That almost broke me.
I didn’t care about first class.
I had slept in places far worse than an airplane’s last row.
What hurt was seeing my daughter learn that strangers could decide her father mattered less than someone richer.
I stood.
Pain shot through my left side as I steadied myself on my cane.
I lifted the carry-on to my chest.
To everyone else, it was luggage.
To me, it held something sacred.
Then I took Maya’s hand.
The cabin quieted.
Some passengers watched.
Others looked away.
We had taken only a few steps when the cockpit door opened.
The captain stepped into the aisle.
Gray touched his temples; his uniform was immaculate.
At first, he didn’t look at the gate agent.
He looked at me.
Then he noticed my cane.
The challenge coin on my bag.
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