On the plane, I heard a child crying from a sealed overhead compartment — I was shocked when I opened it.

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By the time I boarded my flight to another meeting, I was wiped out. I don’t know if you’ve ever experienced that kind of travel fatigue, where all you can think about is how quickly you can get to the next quiet spot to close your eyes for just five minutes. That was me—running on coffee fumes with my laptop bag feeling like it was loaded with bricks.

I was just praying for another calm flight where I could drift off for a couple of hours. As I made my way down the narrow plane aisle, I found my seat, stowed my bag in the overhead compartment, and finally took a moment to breathe. The soft rumble of passengers settling in, the hum of the plane—it was almost soothing.

I figured that with a little luck, I might even be able to catch some sleep before landing. Little did I know, I was about to witness one of the strangest situations I’d ever encountered. The seat next to me was taken by a couple who looked… well, let’s say mismatched.

The guy looked like he’d come straight out of a corporate office. He was neat, in a pressed shirt, and scrolling through his phone with an intense expression. His girlfriend, though?

She looked like she’d barely survived the night. Her hair was tangled, her mascara smudged, and she had that bleary, post-party look as she slumped into her seat. “Ugh… I still feel awful,” she groaned, squeezing her temples.

The guy didn’t look up from his phone. “Maybe that’s because you thought taking ‘just one more shot’ was a good idea,” he muttered back, his voice as icy as it was annoyed. She shot him a half-hearted glare.

“Well, you didn’t have to drag me out so early this morning, you know. I’m dying here.”

“Oh, trust me, I’m aware,” he replied rolling his eyes. He didn’t even bother looking at her, just kept scrolling through his phone as if he were alone.

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