Jonathan Humphreys sat in his first-class seat aboard the ‘red-eye’ from L.A. to New York. As was usual, the air was stale and his chair sat too high in the upright position. After adjusting his seat, he moved the vent above him; turning it one way then the other until at last he felt a waft of relief.

“Good evening, Mr. H. …your vodka tonic.”

“Thank you, Marcy.”

He loosened his tie, sipped his drink, sat back and closed his eyes.

…

“Mr. Humphreys… Jon?” The flight attendant gently touched his shoulder. Slow and steady he awoke. “Welcome home.”

“Thank you, Marcy.”

His eyes opened wide, he straightened his tie and quickly put his fingers through his hair.

…

Jonathan Humphreys sat at the window in the rear on the ‘early bird’ from New York City to Los Angeles. The broken sunlight glimmered through a silhouetted skyline as the plane acceded high over LaGuardia Airport. Adjusting the holster under his jacket, he took a long and deep breath in; and slowly let it out.

“Coffee, sir?”

“Yes. Thank you.”