Her gaze followed a raindrop streaking down the fogged-up window. Feeling a lump in her throat and her view blurring, she looked down and focused on her knees in her neat black pants. She took a deep breath. When she opened her eyes, she quickly looked at the woman sitting across from her in a black blazer, jeans and pink high heels. She hadn’t looked up from her phone, so her sighing hadn’t been too loud. She sank bank in her seat and watched buildings and trees travel past. Ten more minutes of this monotone rocking before she had to exit the train and start her brisk 15-minute walk to arrive exactly 45 minutes before the first pupils would burst through the door. She closed her eyes again. By now, she knew every bend in the tracks, every stop, every announcement. She felt a familiar nausea envelop her, but today she also noticed something else. Her limbs felt like they’d been dipped in lead. Her eyes widened as she recognized the name of her stop. She willed her body to cooperate, but her legs didn’t move. Helpless, she had to watch a group of students exit the train and an elderly woman in a red rain jacket sit down next to the woman across from her. She felt the train move again. She’d missed her stop. A strange calm had replaced the nausea. With every minute that passed, her body started feeling lighter.