My name is Margaret. I’m only five-foot-two, and I’ve always been a quiet woman who avoids arguments.
Since my husband died last year, I’ve been learning to do things alone. This was my first long flight without him.
I had paid extra for a window seat because I wanted to enjoy the view and have a comfortable journey.
But the man sitting beside me had other plans.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, probably around fifty, and dressed in expensive clothes.
Before we even took off, his knee was pressing against mine.
I politely moved closer to the window.
He spread his legs wider.
“Excuse me,” I said. “Could you please move your leg?”
He looked at me and laughed.
“You’re tiny! You don’t deserve all that space!”
I stared at him, waiting for him to say he was joking.
But he simply put on his headphones.
