He sat with his wife’s photo, waiting for a son who had already boarded without him

an expression that could freeze water.

“Can I help you?” Her tone was icy, like acknowledging my existence was a massive burden.

I smiled warmly, trying to melt the frost with a little kindness. “Yes, hi. I have a reservation.”

“Camila Rodriguez.”

She started typing on her computer with agonizingly slow movements, her long acrylic nails clicking loudly continue reading …