The aircraft climbed above the clouds.
For nearly twenty minutes, neither Ryan nor Ashley spoke.
First class suddenly felt less like luxury and more like a prison.
When beverage service began, I pushed my cart through the aisle.
I served an elderly couple celebrating their fiftieth wedding anniversary.
Then a college student heading to a graduation trip.
Finally, I stopped beside seats 2A and 2B.
“Can I get either of you something to drink?”
Ryan refused to look at me.
“Sparkling water.”
“Of course.”
I poured it over ice.
Added a slice of lime.
Served it with perfect courtesy.
Then I turned to Ashley.
“And for you, ma’am?”
She sat up straighter.
“White wine.”
“My pleasure.”
I handed her the glass without spilling a single drop.
