“My sister has a daughter,” Patricia said, after a while.

“About your girl’s age.

Ten, eleven.” Her voice caught.

“When Maya stood up holding my wallet, the only thing I could think about was my niece.

I thought about how I would feel, how I would want to burn the world down, if some stranger on a plane treated her the way I had just been treating your daughter.

And I couldn’t — ” She stopped, and started again.