Justine held her son’s hand as they stood in line.
“How much longer?” West whined.
Justine tried hard not to snap. She’d made herself a promise to hold it together for her son. For West.
“This part can take a while,” she reminded him, “but after we get through the line and go through the big machines, we’ll find a spot by the window to look at the planes taking off.”
As a toddler, West would have lit up at the idea of watching giant planes taxiing outside Logan airport. Now he was four and already jaded.
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, yanking down on her arm.
Justine freed her hand and pulled out her cell, not because she had anything important to look at on her screen but because she needed to rest her nerves. It had been years since she’d flown anywhere. That was
