As we taxied, Mrs. Clooney rested two fingers against the window.
Below us, baggage carts moved between the planes.
A young ground worker waved toward the cabin.
Mrs. Clooney waved back, though he could not possibly have seen her.
Mrs. Clooney waved back.
The woman beside her noticed.
“Do you mind?” she said. “I’m trying to work.”
Mrs. Clooney lowered her hand.
“Of course.”
The plane lifted through a layer of gray cloud.
Chicago disappeared.



