The kicking didn’t stop there—it continued nonstop in a steady rhythm, like the boy was using Carl’s seat as a personal drum. Carl’s hands clenched into tight fists, his frustration growing by the minute. This flight was supposed to be his chance to relax, not a never-ending test of his patience that left him more stressed than before.
“Stay calm. Getting upset will only make this worse,” Carl whispered to himself. He took another deep breath, trying to follow his own advice. He told himself it was just a small annoyance, and the boy would get bored of kicking soon enough. Holding onto that hope, Carl tried to calm down and regain his composure.
As the plane climbed smoothly into the sky, Carl leaned back and stared out the window at the peaceful sea of clouds below. Looking down from high above always helped him relax and escape the chaos of his work life. He focused on the beautiful view, trying his best to tune out the constant kicking behind him.
But every kick felt like a tiny explosion, jolting his body forward sharply. The thin airplane seat cushion offered no protection from the boy’s hard kicks against the hard plastic seatback. Thud. Thud. Thud. The relentless impacts kept hitting Carl’s lower back and shoulders nonstop.
