Mrs. Clooney reached down and lifted the brown paper bag onto her lap.
“Only a birthday card with one sentence written inside.”
The captain paused. Then he said it.
“‘Someone is celebrating that you exist today.'”
Mrs. Clooney covered her mouth.
The paper bag crinkled beneath her other hand.
“It was signed, ‘Love, Mrs. C.'”
“‘Someone is celebrating that you exist today.'”
A man across the aisle removed his glasses and wiped them on his shirt.
“I didn’t know who Mrs. C was. I assumed she was a teacher I’d forgotten or a friend of my mother’s.”
The captain gave a small, uneven laugh.
“For years, I imagined her as someone who knew me.”
Mrs. Clooney looked down.
“But she didn’t,” he added.
