The attendant handed her one with a sympathetic smile, and she muttered, “Thanks,” taking a small sip. “You need it,” the guy said in a low, exasperated voice, almost under his breath. “At this rate, you’ll need a miracle by the time we land.”
They continued like this, her making occasional complaints, him tossing back curt responses filled with frustration.
Most passengers had already filed out, so I waited for the aisle to clear before reaching up to retrieve my bag. That’s when I heard it—a faint sound, soft but unmistakable. A baby crying.
I paused, frowning as the sound grew clearer. It seemed to be coming from above, but I didn’t see anyone nearby with a child. Most of the families had already left, and there wasn’t a baby in sight.
I glanced around to see if anyone else had noticed. The few remaining passengers were absorbed in their own things. Heart pounding, I reached toward the overhead bin a few rows behind mine, where the sound seemed to be coming from.
I hesitated, wondering if I was just imagining it. But there it was again—a tiny, pitiful cry. Taking a deep breath, I swung open the bin.
Inside was a large black duffel bag. I stared at it, hardly daring to breathe. I could hear the baby’s cries from inside the bag, louder now, insistent.
“Oh my God… there’s a child in here!” I shouted, my voice echoing through the nearly empty plane. Immediately, a flight attendant and a few remaining passengers turned to look, eyes wide. My hands shook as I carefully lifted the duffel bag out of the compartment, heart pounding.
I slowly unzipped the bag, bracing myself for whatever I might find. Inside was… a doll. I blinked, utterly confused.
A realistic baby doll, the kind used for parenting classes, lay inside the bag, complete with tiny baby clothes. It continued to “cry,” an unsettlingly lifelike wail that filled the cabin. “Oh, thank heavens!” A frantic voice broke through my shock.
