You were seated on a train, the sort that rumbles steadily through towns with names you’ve never heard and histories you should probably fear. Your destination was uncertain— an unsettling word which here means you had no idea where you were going, only that you were going there quickly.

The doors were about to close with their usual hiss of finality when a man darted aboard, as if he had narrowly escaped something dreadful, or worse, someone who knew his real name.

Without asking, hesitating, or even acknowledging your presence in any traditional manner— such as “hello” or “pardon me, I’m terribly suspicious”—he took the seat beside you. In his lap he placed a briefcase, battered and overburdened with loose papers poking out like the unspoken truths of a long-forgotten scandal.

His hat was pulled low, obscuring most of his face, which is always the preferred method for people who don’t want their expressions examined too closely. He said nothing. You said nothing. The two of you sat in a silence so thick it could have been cut with the edge of a library card— if that card belonged to the right library.

Then the train chimed in with false cheer: “The train will soon be arriving at town.”

Town, of course, is a very vague place to arrive. So vague, in fact, it might not even exist in the way you expect.

Another silence began, awkward and shivering.

Then, just when it seemed like the quiet might swallow the whole compartment, the man beside you spoke; not quite to you, not quite to himself, but to something in between.

“Soon,” he muttered. “A word here which means quickly or in a short amount of time... good.”