The boy’s legs were swinging again, methodically. Not wildly. Just enough to make Daniel’s seat shudder every few seconds. The boy stared at the tray table in front of him as if it were a video game console, lost in some private rhythm.
Across the aisle, the mother still hadn’t noticed. Or worse—had noticed and chosen to ignore it. She scrolled through something on her phone, thumb flicking upward, expression completely neutral. Her earphones glinted faintly in the overhead light.