I don't know what it is about him and his silent struggles with this world that tug at my heartstrings. Maybe it's that I relate to him because I was once a stranger in the world too. Yet the one difference is that I had someone to help me through the transition. He...well, he doesn't want anyone's help.

Somehow, I find that so pitiful and lonely.

"It takes only a few minutes," I assure him, squeezing his hand in comfort.

He turns toward me, his piercing eyes meeting mine. I brace myself for a few of his scathing words. But he doesn't speak. Slowly, he brings his gaze to his lap where our hands are. He stares at our hands so intently, he forgets all about the takeoff or the fact that the plane is already in the air.

"See, it wasn't so bad." I give him a tentative smile.

He doesn't return it—I don't think the man is capable of a genuine smile. He simply nods at me, softly taking my hand off his and depositing it in my lap. I guess it could have been worse. Something along the lines of—how dare you touch me, human? Yes, it could have definitely been worse. My lips tremble with mirth at the thought of those scenarios.

As the plane stabilizes in the air, I lower the armrest on my side and on Ze's side so he can have more space. Then I turn off his monitor and plug in the complimentary earbuds to show him what he can do to pass the time.

At first, he doesn't seem interested. But as I get to the list of shows he can watch, his interest is piqued. He leans forward, his eyes wide and curious.

"This magic of yours," he starts, his expression pensive. "It traps people inside the small box?"

"It's not magic. It's technology. Remember the billboards in Times Square? It's the same."

He blinks.

"So they were not actual people? I was under the impression they were putting on a live show from those boxes," he adds.

I try to hold my laughter in and fail.

"No, they're not." I giggle. He gives me a harsh look. Getting my mirth under control, I proceed to explain—to the best of my ability—how movies and TV shows work.

"I see." He nods. "So these are visual stories. But it's not magic."

"Yes, that's exactly right."

"And I can watch whatever story I want?"

I point to the screen, showing him how he can operate it with his fingers.

"It's like that smartphone of yours," he murmurs, a hint of excitement in his voice. He's entranced by it as he starts swiping in all directions, exploring every option. Eventually, he settles on a TV show called

Game of Thrones.