that’s where he told me to sit.”
There was only one person she could have meant.
My grandfather.
A man who had been gone for twenty-seven years.
The pilot stood abruptly.
“Who told you?”
Grandma opened her purse.
Her hands shook as she reached into the side pocket.
She pulled out the yellowed paper I had noticed at the gate.
An old boarding pass.
The thick cardstock kind airlines used years ago.
The edges were worn soft.
She handed it to him.
He unfolded it.
I could read the faded
