Faith Made the Train.

Faith ran never looking back at a the dark suited man. Something about that man did not sit right. Forget that he seemed to know who she was. Or what had happened: that was all scary enough. What irked her even more was that she could not get a read on him. He was impassive. Empty. A blank slate.
Living on the streets afforded one an acute sense of perception. Faith was able to size up any client, pusher, pimp, mark or john within seconds on any day. With this guy? She’d gotten nothing. Like there was a … neutral zone around his head.
She barely made the train, jumping on board with her ticket waving in the air,
“Wait a minute,” she called just as she made the steps, “Train to Ottawa?” she asked the stewart.
“Yes ma’am? Travelling alone? no bags?” asked the elder-man.
She shook her head once feigning confidence, and flashed a smile,“Nope. I travel light, mister,” she slapped the man twice on the arm and giggled. “How long will it take, d’ya think?”
“Around 3 hours,”
“I’ll just get comfortable then, thanks!”

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