She's sitting on a train, and she's nervous. She isn't used to riding trains. She's a Southern California girl, and her usual mode of transport is an electric car speeding down a concrete freeway. It took her quite the road trip to get all the way over here to the lovely state of New York. She's never been here before. She went ahead and acted like a proper tourist for a day or two, oohing and ahhing at the sights of New York City, but that wasn't really what she came here to see. (She did spend a disproportionate amount of time at Central Park, though.)
The clouds outside are a little bit stormy, but it isn't actually raining. This disappoints her. Rain is her favorite weather, and besides, it would be an appropriate book-end.
She shuffles a thick stack of maps on her lap. Many of them are roadmaps of New York; others detail the subways and the train lines. She drags her finger across one of these latter ones, first tracing Route 9D and then the Metro-North Railroad to it (she's