Carl smiled while turning back into his seat. Maybe, just maybe, he would have a peaceful flight after all, filled with the symphony of low murmurs and the distant hum of the engines. However, as soon as he turned back, the boy’s grin widened as he geared up and delivered another firm kick to the back of Carl’s seat.
But the kicking didn’t just happen once. It started up again, this time with a steady rhythm, as if the boy was treating Carl’s seat like a drum. Carl’s hands curled into fists, a clear sign of his growing frustration. This flight was supposed to be his chance to relax and unwind, not a test of his patience, leaving him more stressed and tired than before…