“Ma’am, is everything all right?”
Linda didn’t answer.
Tears began streaming down her cheeks.
“I can’t lose it. Please, help me.”
The woman who had been laughing so smugly just minutes earlier was now sobbing uncontrollably.
Concerned, I stood up.
“What have you lost?”
“My little blue envelope. It
was here. I’m absolutely sure.”
The flight attendant asked nearby passengers to check the floor.
Susan helped Linda sit down.
As Linda leaned forward, a small metal pendant slipped out from beneath her shirt.
I picked it up.
Inside the pendant was a photograph of a little girl.
“Is that your granddaughter?” I asked.
Linda looked at the photograph and began crying even harder.
“She’s my daughter. Her name was Emily.”
I didn’t understand why she had said was.
“How old is she now?”
Linda closed her eyes.
“She was
eighteen when she died.”
An unusual silence fell over the airplane.