First Class Pov //top\\ 【QUICK — PACK】

But for now, I am going to lie here, listen to the hum of the engines, and pretend that this is just how I live.

– A passenger in 2A

The man across the aisle is reading a physical copy of The Economist . The woman in 1F is already asleep, a silk eye mask strapped over her face, looking like a sci-fi empress. We do not talk to each other. That would break the spell. first class pov

There is a hush up here that feels almost sacred. Behind the heavy curtain somewhere aft of row four, I know there is chaos: the scrum for overhead bins, the polite "excuse me"s, the baby who is about to cry, the man who has already reclined into a stranger’s lap. I remember that life. I lived that life for forty years. But for now, I am going to lie

I am not "Mr. H" anywhere else. At home, I am "Hey, can you take out the trash?" At work, I am the guy who sends the calendar invites. But up here, for the next seven hours, I am a protagonist. We do not talk to each other

I watch the other cabins board through the gap in the curtain. The economy passengers shuffle past, eyes flicking toward the flat-bed seats with a mixture of curiosity and mild resentment. I feel a flush of guilt. I was them last Tuesday. I will be them next Tuesday.