The Point of No Return
As the flight reached cruising altitude, the kicks transitioned from accidental bumps to deliberate, full-force strikes. Carl’s hands curled into fists. He watched the business class passengers through the curtain, sipping champagne in their plush recliners, and the irony of his situation stung. He had done everything right, worked hard, and paid his way, yet here he was being treated as a human punching bag.
He tried to meditate, focusing on the clouds outside the window, but a particularly sharp jolt sent his glasses sliding down his nose. The “cold splash of reality,” as Carl later thought of it, was about to manifest in a way neither the mother nor the son expected. The passenger’s hushed whispers in the nearby rows suggested everyone was waiting to see if—or when—the man in seat 14B would explode.
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