Seated in the plush first-class carriage, I tried to focus on the rhythm of the train.
My daughter’s gaze was fixed on her phone, her fingers tapping out messages I couldn’t see.
She seemed untouched by the conductor’s warning, her world unshaken.
I envied her, the innocence of not knowing.
Across the aisle, a young couple whispered, their eyes darting toward us.
Was that a look of concern or something else?
The train lurched slightly, and my thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind.
I needed to keep us safe, but how?
The conductor’s words replayed like a broken record.
“You’re in danger,” he had said, leaving me with more questions than answers.
