When does the next train leave?”
The woman behind the glass didn’t look up from her magazine. Licking a finger, she turned a page with a casual swipe.
“Destination?” she asked.
“Doesn’t matter,” said Matheus. “Anywhere.”
With a sigh, the woman sat up, pulling over the keyboard. Matheus drummed his fingers on the counter as she typed.
“There’s a train to Portland, Maine at 7:30 p.m.,” she said. “Forty-two dollars round trip.”
“One-way is fine,” said Matheus. He slid a fifty through the gap in the glass.
“I need an ID,” said the woman.
Matheus pushed another fifty toward her. The woman picked up the bill, lips pursed. With a quick look around, she tucked the fifty into her pocket. A few keystrokes later, she passed a ticket through the gap.
“Enjoy your trip, Mr. Smith,” she said.