Inside was a thick stack of yen — far more than I’d ever seen in cash — and a folded note.
My hands shook as I unfolded the paper. It read: “For the baby. I hope this teaches you kindness. — 19A” 19A… that was her seat number. My knees went weak.
She had slipped into my row while I was in the restroom before landing. She didn’t steal from me — she gave me something. Something that felt heavier than money.
I looked down the aisle, but she was already gone, swallowed up by the crowd shuffling toward the exit. I stood there, feeling about two inches tall. I’d thought I was justified, that I was protecting “my space.”
Instead, I’d been shown just how small that space really was compared to the size of a single act of grace.
And in that moment, I realized… the most expensive upgrade you can buy isn’t business class. It’s being a decent human being.
