Adam is beside me, reading a magazine. I notice he’s been probing at his ribs every once in a while. “Adam?” He glances up at me. “How are your ribs?” He shrugs. “They’re fine,” he says. “They’ll heal.” “Does it hurt?” He shakes his head. “Not really. Aches a little.” “What was the stunt?” He closes his magazine. “Jumping from the roof of a warehouse to the top of a moving train. The director wanted the landing to look a certain way, and I kept messing it up. Well, on the last take, the train was moving too fast, so instead of my jump being timed to land in the middle of the car, I hit the back edge, caught it with my stomach. Some bruising, nothing I can’t handle.” He’s obviously trying to make light of it. “Wait. You were jumping onto the roof of a moving train? Like, for real? Isn’t that dangerous?” He shrugs. “It’s what I do.” “That’s crazy! You could’ve been killed!” “It’s all carefully orchestrated and planned out.
