He had sent the $7 via PayPal an hour ago. He’d even added a note: “For my hands.”
Six months ago, a rogue microburst had turned his Cessna into a lawn dart. His hands, once steady as stone, now betrayed him with a tremor that made holding a pen impossible. The FAA had pulled his medical license. The airline had pulled his livelihood. joytokey license
Leo typed it into the license field. The dialog box vanished. The yoke in his hands went quiet, then live again. The virtual runway appeared on screen, steady as a rock. He had sent the $7 via PayPal an hour ago
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