Will almost doesn't notice the paper. He's ready to settle back into his seat and go back to doodling -- he has a couple excellent ideas for snow castles and potato-nosed snowmen -- while waiting for his mother to wake up. It's just by chance that he looks over and sees the coffee cup, then his eyes are instantly drawn to the paper. By the time he scrambles to his feet, Sam's nearly at the door, and Will's tripping over his feet to scoop up the glossy paper and hurry across the length of the waiting area.

"Hey, Sam, wai--" And this time he really trips, over his untied shoelace, landing heavily on his knees and skidding a few inches on the rough airport carpet. The threadbare knee of his jeans tears like tissue paper and the breath leaves him with an audible oof!, and his palms and knees are stinging, rug-burned and maybe it's the late hour, but Will's startled enough that his eyes flood teary before he can stop himself.

And that's humiliating, so he stays on his hands and knees, staring at the carpet and willing the tears away, even though he's pretty sure his knee is bleeding.