about a connecting flight

A beautiful woman sat in the aisle seat, row 6, and I took the window. More passengers filed in, and then a man took the middle seat. He wanted to sit by her. The plane was full of conversation minutes after takeoff. The man and woman talked. They talked the whole flight. I caught bits and pieces of what he said, but nothing she said. He told some stories. One was about a time he cashed a check at a bank drive-through but at home discovered the teller gave him too much money, which he reported. What a guy: honest and so secure that he doesn't even count money when it is given to him.

 

His smothered, gentle laughs, his quiet applause at her jokes, and the sun streaming through the window onto the pages of my book—it all felt so good. 

about a seatmate, a partner

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On my plane, I sat next to guy who looked like a small Ed Harris. Five-four, five-five, bald head. But with a Roman nose leading his narrow face. He spent most of the flight with his head resting against the seat back in front of him. Half the time while wearing ​eye​glasses​.