Taken aback, Daniel looked up calmly, meeting her eyes. She was impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, her hair neatly pinned back, exuding an air of authority and self-assuredness. He noticed the boarding pass in her hand, prominently displaying her assigned seat: 3C.
Politely, he replied, “I’m pretty sure this is my seat, 1A.”
The woman’s eyebrows arched, her voice laced with impatience. “Perhaps you’re mistaken. You see, I always fly first class, and I believe there’s been some sort of mix-up.”
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