I’d splurged on a premium economy seat for this journey. At my age, every inch of legroom feels like a gift from above. As I settled in, feeling good about my choice, the young man next to me cleared his throat.
“Hi there,” he said, flashing a grin. “I’m Torin. I hate to ask, but could you switch seats with my wife?
We just got married, and, well… you know.”
I gave him my warmest smile. “Congratulations, Torin! That’s wonderful.
Where’s your wife sitting?”
He pointed to the back of the plane, his smile fading. “That’s Vespera, back in economy.”
I’m no stranger to love, but I’d paid extra for this seat, and my old bones needed the comfort. “Torin,” I said kindly, “I understand, but I paid a lot for this seat because I need the space.
If you’d like to cover the difference—about a thousand Australian dollars—I’d be happy to switch.”
Torin’s face darkened. “A thousand dollars? You’re joking.”
I shook my head.
“I’m sorry, dear. That’s the deal. Otherwise, I’m staying here.”
As I popped in my earbuds, I caught Torin’s glare.
If looks could kill, I’d have been gone right then. “You’ll regret this,” he muttered under his breath. I didn’t know it yet, but those words were about to turn my peaceful flight into a war zone.
It started with the coughing—not a little throat-clearing, but loud, hacking fits that made me wonder if I should grab a mask. “You alright, Torin?” I asked, trying to stay calm. He shot me a look that could sour milk.
“Never better,” he wheezed, then launched into another fit. Just as I was about to offer him a cough drop, Torin upped the game. He pulled out his tablet and started blasting an action movie, no headphones.
The couple across the aisle glared. “Hey, mate,” the man said. “Can you turn that down?”
Torin gave a fake smile.
“Sorry, forgot my headphones. Guess we’ll all enjoy it together.”
My hands tightened on the armrest. “Torin, please,” I said.
“This isn’t fair to everyone.”
He turned to me, eyes gleaming. “Oh, am I bothering you? That must be awful.”
Before I could reply, crumbs showered my lap.
Torin was eating pretzels like it was a sport, scattering more on me than in his mouth. “Oops,” he said, smirking. “Clumsy me.”
I was about to lose my patience when I heard a giggle from the aisle.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
TAP → NEXT PAGE → 👇
