Anya was twenty-four, and she took the night train to her sister's city. At the first station, a tall man in a gray coat stood on the platform and looked at her.
An hour later he was in the dining car. At midnight he was in the corridor. Later he stood outside her compartment. Anya moved to another carriage, and then to another, but the gray coat came again. She told the conductor, Mr. Berg. "I will watch him," he said.
At 5:40 in the morning the train stopped. Anya hurried along the platform. Behind her, someone ran. "Miss! Miss, wait!" She ran faster. Then a hand touched her arm. It was the man, and he was holding a small green purse. "You dropped this at the first station," he said. "I walked through eleven carriages, and my feet hurt." Anya laughed.
