Acid climbs up my throat as the employee beckons me forward. My feet remain frozen to the carpet, my body paralyzed by fear until my fight-or-flight response kicks in. Nope. Can’t do it. The thought of getting on that plane—of spending hours trapped in a small metal tube with hundreds of people at the mercy of turbulence and a pilot I don’t know—seems impossible. “Ma’am?” The employee frowns. “Your boarding pass, please?” “I got it.” Rafael slips his hand into my hoodie pocket, replacing the cold dread in my stomach with a wave of heat. A cotton barrier prevents his fingers from grazing my
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