Daniel opened one eye, took in the slow-moving platform slipping past the window, and finally exhaled. He wasn’t a man who meditated, but this—this right here—was the closest he came to it. A smooth ride, a good book, no Wi-Fi to guilt him into answering emails.
He popped in his earbuds—not for music, just for the illusion of unreachability—and leaned back, eyes closed. Around him, the quiet car settled into its usual rhythm: pages turning, laptops humming, the occasional clink of ceramic from someone’s thermos cup. And then it happened.