Clara didn’t reach for her overhead bag. She left her phone on the tray table and her jacket folded over the armrest, trying to look like someone who had a completely ordinary reason to use the restroom.
The last few rows of the plane were nearly empty. There was a teenager playing a Nintendo Switch and a heavy-set man asleep against the window. The flight attendant was waiting near the galley, pretending to organize a drawer.
When Clara reached her, the woman didn’t explain anything. Her face was pale, her jaw locked tight. “Sit here,” she whispered, gesturing to the very last row, Row 32. Before Clara could ask a single question, the attendant cleverly arranged a heavy beverage cart to completely block off the aisle, trapping Clara in the back. To any unsuspecting passenger, it just looked like a routine service setup. Clara was left in total exile at 35,000 feet, her mind spiraling in absolute terror.