“Would you mind switching seats?” the Man from Seat 2B asked.

Before sitting, he reached across and pressed a smallish object into my palm. “For my seatmate,” he said.

My new seatmate (2A) had her back to me.

I tapped her shoulder. “The man sitting here, told me to give--”

Her head lolled back, revealing the crimson grin across her throat. The “object” in my hand bit into my flesh, just as it had hers.

I don’t know how he switched the tickets. I don’t know why my ticket said I’d always been the man in seat 2B.