He stared out the window, jaw tight, willing the world to blur faster. Outside the window, the river had come into view. It sparkled under the pale winter sun, snaking past bare trees and crumbling boathouses. A beautiful scene. Wasted on a man trying not to boil over.
Another kick landed. And this time, Daniel didn’t even flinch. He simply… stared ahead. And thought. The quiet car had returned to its usual hush, but inside Daniel, something stayed loud. His thoughts buzzed beneath the surface, looping over the same helpless refrain: You tried. You were polite. And it still didn’t matter.
Footsteps approached down the aisle—soft-soled, rhythmic. The train cart attendant appeared at his row, pushing a silver trolley stacked with snacks and drinks. “Anything for you, sir?” Daniel blinked. “Just a cup of water, please. Cold if possible.” “Of course.”
A moment later, she handed him a clear plastic cup filled three-quarters with ice water. He nodded his thanks and held it loosely, the condensation immediately gathering on his fingers, slick and cool. He didn’t drink from it. Just held it like an anchor. Like a buffer between him and the chaos he couldn’t escape.