All Is Well

They board quietly. I set the course.

Two adults. One infant. One child, older. Female passenger carries both.

He enters first. Takes the seat. Speaks immediately — hospital, staff, outcome. Galaxy-best.

She follows. Sets the bag between them.

He says they chose this. Every day, they choose this.

More soon, he adds.

Her head moves. Once. Eyes forward.

The bag stays where it landed.

Plans continue. Larger quarters. Provisions. Expansion.

Her lips press. Release. Press.

The older child reaches for her. She shifts the infant higher. No arms left.

The window reflects nothing she looks at.

She is young. Early twenties, perhaps. No further data.

He rises first at landing. She bundles both children. Bag last.

All is well, he says at the door.

I carry people. Their words travel with them.