“Hey, could I get some water please?”

I did not blame her for not hearing the first time. There was a crying baby a few seats ahead, and turbulence made steering the trolley a hassle. But this was the third time she had missed me and I was getting more thirsty and frustrated by the hour.

The boy looked up at me, then back to the flight attendant. His father in the aisle seat was dozing and the attendant had moved past already. As I was about to raise my voice, a water bottle transpired on my lap. I looked at the boy – he was transfixed on his screen, watching a cartoon.

A few hours later, I felt the boy’s head fall on my shoulder. We sat like this for over an hour: him dreaming, me watching inception, my humerus providing a cushion. This would be my gift back for his kindness.

His father eventually noticed and quickly moved his head away.

“Sorry,” he said. “And thank you.”

“No,” I wanted to say. “Thank you.”