The boy’s legs were swinging again, methodically. Not wildly. Just enough to make Daniel’s seat shudder every few seconds. The boy stared at the tray table in front of him as if it were a video game console, lost in some private rhythm.
Across the aisle, the mother still hadn’t noticed. Or worse—had noticed and chosen to ignore it. She scrolled through something on her phone, thumb flicking upward, expression completely neutral. Her earphones glinted faintly in the overhead light.
Daniel studied her for a beat longer. Clean-cut, mid-thirties. Designer coat. A reusable coffee cup tucked into the seat pocket. He couldn’t hear her music, but from the intensity of her scrolling, it was probably a true crime podcast or a five-part docuseries on workplace burnout. Something “soothing” like that.
She looked like someone who should know better. The train rumbled slightly as it picked up speed, the landscape outside starting to stretch and blur. Office buildings gave way to parking lots. Then to trees. Then to wide, open fields.