She knew he would be skinjacking, so there’d be no way to spot him in advance. All she could do was wait. So that’s what she did. She waited all morning, and all afternoon. But as the day wore on, and the sun began to set, she became increasingly worried. What if Milos wasn’t coming? What if he had changed his mind? What if she was now truly stuck in the living world? And what if this nightmare of a week became her whole future? She imagined herself aging, her body corrupting with decay. What had she done to deserve such an unspeakable punishment?

A train came, people boarded, people left, and it moved on. It was long after dark now, and Milos had not come. She buried her head in her hands and wept.

“Listen, Miss … I’m sorry your friend didn’t show… .”

She looked up to see that nosy young security guard again. She gathered what little poise she could, and pulled a few stray strands of hair back from her face. “It’s fine,” she said. “Really it is.” She looked at the large station clock, which showed half-past nine. They were the only ones left in the station now.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “but the building’s closing.”

Mary blotted her eyes, as he sat down beside her. “You must work very long hours,” she said. “You’ve been here since this morning.”

He offered her an apologetic shrug. “Actually my shift ended a while ago. But I was worried about you, so I stayed.”

Then he reached around to the back of her neck. “You know you left the price tag on.”

“Did I? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Might as well be a ‘kick me’ sign. May I?”

“Please.”

He reached into his pocket. “I got this off a troublemaker the other day. He was trying to shoplift cigarettes.” And he produced a large switchblade. He reached behind her and cut off the tag.

“Thank you.”

Then he offered her his hand. “My name is Roberto, but my friends call me Beto.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Beto. My name is—” She hesitated, then said, “My name is Megan. Megan McGill.”

“Listen,” said Beto, “since we’re closing and all, maybe you might like to go get something to eat.”

Mary sighed. So here it was again; a young man pretending to be a gentleman. Was it too much to hope that he could be sincere?

“Yes,” Mary said. “I would like that. I would like that very much.”

She wiped away the last of her tears and they left—but before they reached the door, he stopped, as if perhaps he had changed his mind.

“Is everything all right?”

“Yes,” said Beto. “I thought I had forgotten my keys, but they’re right here.” He jingled them in his pocket.

“Oh—so we’re taking your car… .”

“Got to,” he said with a chuckle. “Already missed the train.”