The train from Chappaqua to New York was almost an hour late this morning.
“What happened?” I asked the conductor when he came to collect my ticket.
“Someone got hit by a train.”
“Oh, that’s awful.”
“It was their choice though,” he said, unsympathetically.
He made a cutting motion across his throat with his hand. From the seat in front of me, a toddler wearing rainbow stripes watched him. I caught her eye, and she smiled shyly.
“So much stress these days,” her mother sighed.
The conductor shrugged, and continued on with his business.