THE RIPPED MAN IN THE COWBOY HAT WOULDN’T STOP STARING AT ME ON THE PLANE
The moment I boarded, I noticed him—worn leather cowboy hat, a face that belonged on a whiskey label and eyes locked on me. Though seated in economy, nothing about him said “average.” I tried to ignore the pull, but when turbulence hit hard, there he was beside me, asking if I was okay. His voice…
