The train had been delayed an hour by the time she sat down across from him.
She was reading a book he loved. He recognized the cover before he recognized her. Then he recognized her.
They’d never met.
“Is the second half worth it?” he asked.
She didn’t look up. “I’ll tell you when I get there.”
“When will that be?”
“Atlanta.”
“I get off at Atlanta.”
She bookmarked the page with her thumb and looked up. The whole train rearranged itself around her decision.
“Then I’ll tell you in Atlanta,” she said.