Her voice carried that overly cheerful, professional customer service tone.

She delivered each word with a careful pause, clearly used to calming down angry travelers.

She turned her bright smile toward me.

I reached into my right pocket and took out our crisp white one-hundred-and-eighty-dollar ticket receipts.

I held them out, keeping my wrist perfectly still.

Emily took the heavy paper receipts and read the printed text carefully.

“Flight 418 to Denver,” Emily read aloud.

“Seats 2A and 2B.