I tense, wondering if something has happened. If the Guards have somehow found out about me. Come for me. But there are no Guards to see, only the train crew. They are standing around the tracks, pointing at something and then arguing with each other. My legs hurt from trying to keep my feet off the floor. I give in, relax. The pain is almost worth it. I cross one foot over the other, pressing down layers of skirt that have popped up around me like small hills. The skirt I’m wearing was yellow-green, like leaves as they are about to turn. Chris gave it to me when he woke me up and pushed me out the door, but it’s turned darker now, damp with sweat and grime. The bottom, which has brushed against the washroom floor, is something I will never touch again. I will peel the skirt away from me once I am over the border and find something clean to wear. Something that isn’t from Keran Berj’s world. Or mine. I want something new. I look at the bottom of the shoe that isn’t resting on the train floor.