He shuffled forward as the line moved. The agent took his ticket, blinked at the seat assignment, and smiled warmly.
“Welcome aboard, Mr. Jenkins. First class — right this way.”
Robert gave a polite nod and walked down the jet bridge, heart pounding.
He stepped into the plane, eyes wide with awe. Plush leather seats, soft lighting, and the faint scent of fresh coffee surrounded him. A flight attendant greeted him with a professional smile.
“Can I help you find your seat?”
Robert held up his ticket. “1A,” he said shyly.
“Right here, sir.” She helped him store his paper bag in the overhead bin, and he carefully eased himself into the luxurious window seat, his eyes darting around nervously.
Just then, a tall, elegant woman approached, heels clicking, designer handbag swinging from her arm. She paused, looked at Robert, then at the seat next to him, and frowned.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered under her breath.
“Excuse me?” Robert asked.
“I’m not sitting next to him,” she said loudly, catching the attention of other nearby passengers.
The flight attendant returned, startled. “Ma’am, is there a problem?”
