Jasmine was not with us.

Aaron climbed the stairs first.

He always did.

Inside, the cabin smelled of leather and lemon polish.

Jasmine was already in 1A.

Her hands were folded in her lap, one over the other, as if a decorator had placed her there.

She had a closed laptop on the side table and a slim folder under her elbow.

“That is my seat,” I said.

“Mr.

Prescott said I should set up here,” she said.

Her voice was soft.

“For the files.”

“There are six other seats with tables.”

“He said this one has the best light.”