There is a baby crying. Marco thinks to himself, his jaw flexing tightly as he grits his teeth. He stares blankly out of the window at the tarmac, swirling his whiskey - a half-assed apology for messing with his booking from the airline - in its glass.There is a baby crying and these seats are too damned small. His angry throught is only exasterbated when a shadow falls across his vision, and he quickly comes to the realization he's going to be stuck beside a stranger the entire flight.
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