Passenger Handbook
Raya
The sweet and tangy fragrance of mangosteen tea coiled around the spiral paper stairway, following Raya and Q as they climbed seemingly endless steps. Dev’s directions to the Dragonfly had taken them through the hot springs in the spa car, across giant mahjong tiles in the game lounge, and inside a dictionary sitting next to a pot of freshly made mangosteen tea. Words, along with their definitions, silently crept up the paper stairs and snaked across paper walls, parting and swerving to avoid being stepped on and crushed.
“Peristeronic.” Raya read a word slithering down the banister. “Adjective. Suggestive of pigeons.”
“Extremely useful.” Q grinned. “You never know when you’ll see something that’s pigeon-like, but not actually a pigeon.”
“Here’s another good one. ‘Ucalegon.’ ” Raya pointed to a word climbing up a step.
“Noun. A neighbor whose house is on fire.” Q read its definition out loud. “I’ll keep that in mind in case I ever see smoke coming from your compartment.”
A chuckle burst from Raya’s lips. She snapped her mouth shut and picked up her pace. It was easy to get distracted on a train filledwith wonders, in the company of a man who delighted in each of them.
“Hey,” Q said. “Did I say something wrong?”
Raya tugged her tote higher over her shoulder. “We should hurry up and see what Lily wants.”
“I can carry that for you, if you like,” Q offered.
“Thanks, but it’s not that heavy. Just some notes. A laptop. The usual.”
“I can see why you don’t think you belong here.”
Raya’s spine stiffened. “You can?”
“You’re carrying around your weight in dreams. Med school, right?”
Raya paused on a step. “How did you know?”
“I have a sixth sense about these things.” He smiled at the ID card sticking out from the binder containing her anatomy notes.
Raya shoved the card deeper into her bag and climbed two steps at a time. “Apparently, studying to be a doctor doesn’t count as purpose on this train.”
Q caught up with her. “I’m sorry, Raya. No one should be here if they don’t want to be.”
Raya twisted the bag’s straps. “But you want to stay.”
“I can’t think of a better place to retire, can you?”
“Aren’t you a bit young to retire?”
“What can I say?” Q shrugged. “I followed some great financial advice.”
Raya smirked. “Maybe the train has a financial consulting department you can join.”
Q laughed. “Maybe.”
“What did you do before retiring? No. Wait. Let me guess. You painted. There’s no way that anyone who paints the way you do is an amateur.”
Q’s eyes roamed over the words scrolling across the curved wall. “That’s behind me now.”
“It didn’t seem that way when you were painting the star. You looked like a person who was enjoying what he was doing. A lot.”
“We needed a star and so I made one.”
Raya looked him in the eye. “So you’re saying that being set for life is the only reason you stopped painting?”
