Eleanor was alone in Seat 6A. Her paperback was open to the last page. The Wi-Fi signal was full.
Eleanor’s blood turned to slush. She looked at her own ticket. Seat 6A. She’d bought it at the kiosk in Penn Station. She remembered the screen flickering. Remembered the machine printing two tickets instead of one. She’d thrown the extra away.
The hand paused.
She took a breath.
Arthur’s smile cracked. His skin flaked like burnt paper. Behind him, the other passengers began to fade—not into nothing, but into real people again. The woman in 6D blinked, her throat whole. The man in 6B groaned and rubbed his neck.
Eleanor’s reporter instincts kicked in before her fear. She leaned closer. “What do you mean, the fifth seat?”