When I reached our row, someone was already sitting in my seat.
I stopped and stared.
It was him. Of course it was.
For a second, I honestly wondered if the universe had developed a sense of humor.
He was by the window.
His backpack was under the seat in front of him.
His jacket was already folded beside him.
He looked completely settled.
I checked the row number.
Then my boarding pass.
It was the correct row and correct seat.
I said, “Excuse me.”
He looked up.
No recognition.
At least not yet.
I held up my boarding pass.
“That’s my seat.”
He glanced at it.
Then at me.
“Oh.”
I waited for him to move.
He didn’t.
Instead, he pointed toward the middle seat.
“You can just take that one.”
He was unbelievable.
Behind me, passengers were starting to gather.
Dad had caught up.
He looked over my shoulder.
