“Are you blind? Look at her!”
I opened my mouth, but the attendant gently interrupted.
“There’s another available seat farther back. Would you prefer to move?”
I hesitated.
I’d paid for this aisle seat, and I hated rewarding such awful behavior.
But five more hours beside this woman sounded unbearable.
“All right,” I sighed.
I wasn’t embarrassed.
My neighbor smiled triumphantly.
Then I reached for my carry-on and remembered my grandson’s special Halloween present.
Suddenly, I wasn’t embarrassed anymore.
In fact, I had to bite my lip to keep from smiling. An absolutely wicked idea had just occurred to me.
I opened my carry-on and carefully unwrapped my grandson’s present.
It was absolutely hideous.
It was a doll about the size of a small child, with a cracked, porcelain-looking face, tangled black hair, and a crooked smile that revealed two rows of yellowish teeth.
Its tiny hands had unnaturally long fingers, and its Victorian dress looked as though someone had dragged it through a cemetery.
