You look through your backpack for clothes

You dig through your backpack, quickly hitting your neatly packed stuff at the bottom. Of course you didn’t pack spare trousers—you knew that—but a man could hope. No luck. Your only option is to retrieve your suitcase from the overhead compartment.

With a resigned sigh, you push yourself up from your seat. The movement jostles the older woman beside you, and she stirs, blinking awake. So much for being discreet.

You hesitate for a moment, then gesture silently toward the overhead bin, your eyes flicking between her and your luggage. The unspoken request hangs in the air as you wait for her to acknowledge you.