“So use your other armrest and don’t bother me.”
He replaced his headphones, wiggled his toes, and I faced forward.
Ten minutes later, turbulence sent his toes brushing my sleeve. I turned back.
“Seriously. Move your foot.”
He let out a dramatic sigh, as though I were the unreasonable one.
“Lady, it’s just a foot. You’re acting like I put it on your dinner plate.”
The woman sitting beside me wrinkled her nose.
“That’s disgusting.”
He chuckled at us both.
“You two need to relax.”
“Okay.”
I decided that arguing any further would accomplish nothing. He clearly thought he had won.
About twenty minutes later, he drifted off to sleep, leaving his bare foot only inches from my arm. A mischievous idea occurred to me. I knew perfectly well it was ridiculous, but after his repeated refusals, I was in no mood to be accommodating.
I glanced at my seatmate.
