Not all at once, but in a spreading hush, row by row, the way a room quiets when people sense that something is happening that they do not yet understand but do not want to miss.

The murmur of conversation dropped away.

Even the beverage cart, halfway down the aisle, came to a stop, the attendant behind it frozen with a hand on a can.

The woman in Row 11 stared at the wallet in my daughter’s hands.

Then she looked at Maya’s face.

Then back at the wallet, as though she could not make the two things connect.