She reached for her small cardboard box of crayons.

“Can we draw the horses now?” Sophie asked.

Her voice was breathless and eager, ready to forget the shouting man.

“Yes,” I said.

“We can draw the horses with the purple sparkly shoes.”

I picked up a green crayon.

I looked at the back of Harrison Caldwell’s head, measuring the exact distance between his seat and mine.

I slid my phone back into my pocket just as a man in a white short-sleeved shirt stepped into the first-class cabin.