Corporal Mason Reid sat on his left, holding a paper cup of cold airport coffee.

Mason reached up with his right hand and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Keep it down, Evan,” Mason said, his tone low and careful.

“You don’t know who’s listening.”

“I know what I’m looking at,” Evan said with a short, mocking laugh.

“Some staff officer playing dress-up for the ride home so people will thank her in the concourse.”

I kept my eyes on the black print of my paperback, holding the page steady between my thumbs.