They had looked at a space designed for a wheelchair and decided a handbag needed it more.
I held out the tickets.
He barely looked at them.
“Sit somewhere else.”
For a second, I thought I had misunderstood him.
“I’m sorry?”
“You heard me.”
I thought I had misunderstood him.
I pointed toward Caleb.
“These are accessible seats. My son needs the wheelchair space.”
The man finally looked at Caleb.
Or rather, at the chair.
Then he shrugged.
“Not my problem.”
“These are accessible seats. My son needs the wheelchair space.”
His wife adjusted her sunglasses and looked toward the field.
I felt heat rise into my face.
“Your wife’s purse is literally sitting where his wheelchair goes.”
The woman gave me a small smile.
“It’s just a bag.”
“Then move it, and yourselves.”
I felt heat rise into my face.
The man’s expression tightened.
“Lady, don’t start.”
“I’m not starting anything. We bought these seats.”
