His torso was bent low over his knees, and the sleeves of his striped blue shirt were rolled up. At his feet rested a leather briefcase, a thin umbrella on top. His suit jacket was on the bench beside him and a paisley tie was tucked into one of the pockets.

Sparrows are adaptable, Emily thought, watching the scene through the window of the train, sketching it in her mind. They can feed on over eight hundred different types of food.

She was trying to commit to memory the exact speckles of dark brown on each sparrow’s breast. The shadows that fell at an angle from the man’s legs onto the platform. She wanted to imagine what it was that brought him to that place, at that moment, because the story behind the picture was what always brought it to life.

As the train pulled out of the platform, the birds scattered, and Emily turned her head, her body, to count them, to follow them until they disappeared from view.

Catriona had told her that sparrows in the Old Testament were associated with loneliness, that they can swim underwater and live for up to fifteen years. She had taught her so much, and yet Emily couldn’t help but feel there was so much more she never had a chance to share.

“When was the last time you were in London?”

On the seat opposite, across from the table that separated them, Tyler was shrugging off his jacket, then taking out his phone, along with a small black notebook and a pair of enormous headphones. He simply dumped them all on top of one another, and Emily resisted the urge to line them up, neatly and in order of size.

He was relaxed or, rather, relieved. Emily could tell by the way one ankle was crossed over his knee, the tightness at his jaw gone, and his eyes no longer darted from her scar to her mouth and away whenever he looked at her. Which meant he was invested in this little trip more than he wanted her to know.

Except she knew. Just as she knew he was impatient to get back to London, because he had glanced at his watch and the clock above the sink more than a dozen times while he watched her busy herself about the kitchen, checking for locked windows and that the gas was turned off.

The fact she made him nervous, no matter the reason why, made her smile a little, despite her own reservations, her own fears, about where exactly they were headed.

Instead of replying verbally to his question, she held up her hands, fingers and thumbs splayed.

“Ten years?” Tyler gave a low whistle as he scrolled through his phone. “It’s changed a bit since then.”

Haven’t we all, Emily thought as she stared at him. She willed him to give up something of himself, something she could use to figure out what was really going on. She wanted to ask him why he was there, and what had happened to make him agree to accompany her on such a ridiculous quest.