They'd met on the train the summer after his Junior and her Freshman year, taking the obligatory wanderjahr through Europe. He'd made a joke to the conductor, who took his ticket and frowned disapprovingly; but she'd smiled mischievously, changed seats to be next to him, started a conversation.
Now, her face was frozen into a map of pain; whether it was pain she had felt at the moment of her death, or pain she was feeling currently, somehow, he had no way to know. He backed through the kitchen and into the living room. She followed him, vacant-eyed and moaning.
