The stale, frigid air was heavy with exhaustion as Curtis peered around the sardine-packed car. Bodies pressed wall to wall with not an inch to spare; just a sea of huddled forms seeking whatever meager warmth they could find.

A flicker of luminosity drew his gaze down. There, curled in a tight ball on the icy floor, was the shadow of a slight figure. As his eyes adjusted, Curtis was surprised to find her familiar face staring back - the quiet tailie who kept to herself.

Her expression betrayed nothing, but the bruise-like smudges beneath dull eyes told of countless cold, restless nights. Pity and frustration welled in his gut. No one, especially not one so young, deserved this living hell.

“Hey,” he greeted gently. “I’m Curtis Everett. Do you have a shelf to sleep on?”

When she offered only a slight shake of the head, he pressed. “I can share mine, if you’d like.”