𝒴ou didn't like the idea of ​​traveling by air, but Harold kept repeating that you'd be fine and that this was the future, that you'd better adapt to it or be left behind. Your husband was fascinated by cars and small planes; you didn't share his hobby.

Since you married him, you knew your life would be full of eccentricities and luxuries. Because traveling in this time was just that, a luxury. People traveled in suits and dresses.

— "Don't be silly, woman. You'll be fine." — he said as you both looked out the enormous airport windows. He pointed to one of the planes. — "That's ours. The seats are spacious, and they'll serve us drinks and food."

He looked at you over his shoulder, seeing your ‘I'll believe it when I see it’ face. He smiled slightly and kissed your forehead, while his hand on your lower back pulled you closer.

— “Think about when we land. We’ll be in Paris. You said you wanted to go, right?” — He stepped back and picked up his briefcase again. — “Let’s get in line, it’s time to board, dear.”

Harold put on his hat and extended his arm to you.