My pleasant flight lasted about twenty minutes.
Josh’s knee first pressed against mine shortly after takeoff, extending several inches past the invisible line between our seats.
I shifted toward the window, assuming he hadn’t noticed.
His leg followed.
“Excuse me. Could you move your knee a little?”
He glanced down.
Then he laughed.
“Lady, look at you. You’re tiny. You don’t need all that space.”
I thought he was joking.
He wasn’t.
“Well, I paid for the whole seat.”
He moved his knee back an inch.
Thirty seconds later, it returned.
I opened my book, hoping he’d settle down.
Instead, Josh claimed the shared armrest, draped his jacket over the divider, and stretched one foot into my legroom.
Every time he moved, his thigh pressed harder against mine.
I tapped his arm.
“Could you move your foot, please?”
He removed one headphone.
“I’m six-three. Where exactly do you expect my legs to go?”
