How many moments had he absorbed quietly, just to keep the peace? He thought of his job. His apartment. His life. And then he thought about this train. This boy. This woman. His fingers closed around the edge of his tray table, knuckles whitening. Enough.
Daniel turned around fully this time. Not just a glance over his shoulder, but a deliberate pivot—shoulder angled into the aisle, posture upright, controlled. The boy was staring blankly at his shoes. His legs swung with innocent rhythm, like he wasn’t even aware of what he was doing.