Mariam heavily drops into the flimsy plastic seat, ignoring the murderous stare of the woman next to her. She shoots Aris a quick message: SORI GONNA B L8. CB TRAIN LATE. AGAIN. Scant minutes after she’s sent it, it twitters back at her. CALL IF DELAYED FURTHER. WILL WALK YOU TO WORK. She smiles, knowing he’ll do it, too, though he’s halfway across town.
Too late does she see the rail-thin man place a briefcase on the platform and run. The shout’s barely out of her throat when it explodes.