The coffee steamed. The man sneezed. The pigeon flew. The baby cried. And she looked up from her book, blinked at me across the aisle, and smiled—a small, private thing. She had no idea. None of them did.
But the car had a second level. And the second level had her .
This wasn’t a prank. This was something else. Something that didn’t have a funny punchline.
I stepped close. Too close. She couldn’t object. I traced a finger along her sleeve. Then I pulled her ponytail elastic out, just to see her hair fall. Then I unbuttoned the top button of her coat. Just to see. Then the next.
My heart did a stupid little jig. I’d wished for this a thousand times—more time, stolen time. And here it was.
