My Brother Handed Me an Economy Ticket

to say goodbye.

“No,” I said.

That one came out quicker than I meant.

We reached a glass-walled office near the end of the concourse where a woman in a charcoal suit was waiting with a tablet, two sealed envelopes, and a fresh printed itinerary with my name blacked out except for the last four letters.

They do that sometimes. Security theater mixed with continue reading …