Anya was twenty-four, and she was taking the night train to her sister's city. It left at ten in the evening and arrived at 5:40 in the morning. At the first station, a tall man in a gray coat stood on the platform and looked straight at her, and Anya, who was not of a suspicious nature, felt the back of her neck go cold.
An hour later he was in the dining car, two tables away, studying his tea. At midnight he was in the corridor. Later he stood outside her compartment for a long time, doing nothing at all, which was somehow worse. Anya moved to another carriage, then to another, but every time she looked up, there was the gray coat. She told the conductor, Mr. Berg, who listened gravely. "I'll keep an eye on him," he said.
At 5:40 the train arrived. Anya jumped out and hurried along the platform, her heart beating fast. Behind her she heard running steps. "Miss! Miss, wait!" She ran faster. Then a hand touched her arm, and she turned around, ready to scream.
The man in the gray coat was bent double, quite out of breath, holding out a small green purse. "You dropped this at the first station," he gasped. "I've been trying to give it to you since ten o'clock. You change carriages very fast." Her passport, her money and her ticket home were inside. "My name is Olek," he said. "I walked through eleven carriages, and my feet hurt." Behind him, Mr. Berg was smiling. "He asked me nine times which compartment was yours," he said. "I told him it was none of his business." Anya began to laugh, half from relief, and then she bought them both a coffee.
