He walked down the jet bridge without waiting for Emily to say anything.

David Ross followed close behind him.

We walked down the metal ramp.

The floor sloped down toward the open cabin door, and the walls of the jet bridge echoed with the sound of rolling luggage and overlapping conversations.

The smell of jet fuel and warm cinnamon roasted nuts drifted out from the forward galley.

Sophie held my hand tight.

She kept Oliver wedged securely under her other arm.

“Will Emily bring us water?” Sophie asked.