Her small shoulders shook silently.

I needed to get her away from row one.

“Let’s take a walk to the front,” I told her.

I guided Sophie up the carpeted aisle toward the forward galley.

A line of economy passengers shuffled past us into the main cabin, dragging heavy roller bags across the floor.

The sharp smell of jet fuel mixed with the scent of warm cinnamon roasted nuts drifting from a foil catering tray near the cockpit door.

Emily Foster was sliding a tall metal beverage cart into its floor locking tracks.