Thirty Thousand Feet, Gun Pointed at Old Times

The engines of the Boeing 777 roared steadily as Lin Xiao pushed the dining cart through the business class cabin. The old lady by the window in the 12th row was wiping the coffee stains from the corner of her mouth with a paper towel. The slight crack on the edge of the porcelain cup was particularly conspicuous under the reading light - it was exactly the same as the middle school mug in her locker. Chen Mo bought it with half a month's breakfast money when she was in the third year of junior high school. The cup had a crooked sunflower painted on it, and it is still on the top shelf of her apartment.