A moment later, the same man stood near the security bins, speaking loudly on his phone. “I’m through,” he laughed. “I just skipped past some confused old guy. He probably doesn’t even know what line he’s in.” Dad heard every word. His fingers stopped moving around the little silver wings in his pocket. I wanted to confront the man, but Dad quietly reminded me to leave it alone.

The stranger continued talking while collecting his laptop and shoes. Then I heard him mention his flight number: 2290. I looked down at our boarding passes. It was the same flight. I was still watching him when Dad suddenly touched my arm. His expression had changed. He wasn’t angry exactly. He looked thoughtful, almost as though something had just come back to him. He pulled the little silver keychain from his pocket and held it tightly. Before I could ask what was happening, an announcement came over the speakers, telling passengers on Flight 2290 to prepare for boarding. Dad slipped the wings back into his hand and quietly followed me toward the gate.