"Then please step aside."
Daniel didn't move. "I've paid for the ticket."
"And the system says your reservation isn't confirmed."
"Then perhaps the system is wrong."
Claire's expression hardened. "Sir, I don't have time to argue."
"I'm not arguing."
"You are."
"I'm asking you to verify a reservation."
"Your reservation cannot be verified."
"Why?"
A teenager waiting behind the rope barrier picked up one of the torn ticket fragments before a cleaner could sweep it away. Daniel thanked her and asked her name. “Maya,” she said, glancing nervously at Claire. “My mother says I should mind my business.” Daniel held out a business card with no title printed beneath his name. “Your mother is right about staying safe,” he answered. “But you are allowed to remember what happened.” Maya showed him the photograph on her phone, taken before Claire had torn the paper. The timestamp was clear. The reservation number was clear. And beside it, too small for Claire to have noticed, was an unusual seven-character code. It matched a column in the blue notebook Daniel carried inside his jacket. He understood then that the incident was not merely another complaint. His own reservation had been added to the ledger before he arrived.
"Because it isn't confirmed."
Daniel looked at the monitor. "Is the flight oversold?"
Claire's eyes narrowed. "That's none of your business."
"If the flight is oversold, it would explain why—"
"Sir."
Her voice became sharper. "I've told you what the system says."
Daniel paused. There were people behind him now. He could feel them watching. He lowered his voice. "Could I speak to your supervisor?"
Claire laughed. Not loudly. But enough for several passengers to hear. "Of course."
She picked up the phone. For a second, Daniel thought she was actually calling someone. Instead, she put the phone down. Then she looked at him. "The supervisor isn't available."
Daniel knew that was a lie. He had checked the duty roster that morning. There were two supervisors assigned to Terminal Four. Both were working. He decided to give her one last opportunity. "Could you please check the reservation one more time?"
Claire stared at him. Then something changed in her expression. Maybe she was tired. Maybe she was angry. Maybe she simply didn't like being questioned. Whatever the reason, she reached for the printed ticket. Daniel watched her fingers close around it. Then she tore it. Once. Twice. The sound was sharp. Several people nearby turned. Claire dropped the pieces into the trash. "There."
Daniel stared at her. She folded her arms. "Now you don't have a ticket."
The terminal seemed to become strangely quiet. Daniel looked at the trash. Then at Claire. "You just tore my ticket."
"You didn't have a valid reservation."
"I paid for it."