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TULA-ORYOL , 11:42

Olesya flipped the lock. The handle rattled.

"Open the door," the attendant said.

She shook her head.

"I can't have you in there. It's against the rules."

"I want to be alone," Olesya said.

"What?" He cupped his ear to the window.

"Leave me alone!"

He looked at her, scratched his head. "Listen here, dorogusha. It's a serious offense, stopping the train. You know that. I'm taking the blame myself, for what it's worth, so your friend—what's her name, Natasha. So your Natasha won't get fined. And now this. I tell you, you stay in there and someone finds you half-dead from the cold? I lose my job."

Beneath Olesya, the ground flashed between the shifting plates and the swaying, creaking bellows. The wind pushed its fingers under her coat. She shivered.

"You'll freeze to death in there! Is that what you want?"

"I want to be alone!" she shouted.

"Fine. I give you five minutes. Five minutes, and I'm forcing the door open. Got that?" The car bumped over a gap in the tracks. The attendant crossed himself. "Damn boneshaker."

He ducked out of sight, then came back with a bucket of coal and knelt in front of the boiler. Olesya watched him open the small, blackened door and feed the coal into the fire. The orange glow danced on his face, making it look friendly. Fatherly almost.

Olesya sighed, unlocked the door, and stepped out.

The attendant grinned. "That was a fast five minutes."

"It's cold in there." She hugged herself.

"Told you." He got up with a groan and stretched out his hand. She gave hers. He shook it, his grip surprisingly soft and warm. ". You can call me Yuri."

"Olesya."

"Pleased to meet you, Olesya. May I give you some advice?"

"Advice?"

"Don't hide from people. That's not how you fix a heartbreak."

"What are you talking about?"

Yuri studied her. "I saw you looking. Spying on those two. Who was it, your boyfriend?"

Olesya tried to get past him. "Excuse me."

Yuri blocked her way. "Hang on there, dorogusha—you don't mind if I call you 'dorogusha'? It's what I call my daughter, Lidochka. You remind me of her. Stubborn, that one, just like you. She's twelve, coming on thirteen, wants to be a ballerina." He smiled. "You're a ballerina, aren't you? From Bolshoi?"

"Yes," Olesya said. "If you'll excuse me—"

"Anyway. As I was saying, you need to talk it out. No good burying it inside you."

"I appreciate the advice, but I really need to go to my compartment."

"Sure, sure." He stepped aside and opened the door to the aisle. "Off you go. Keep lugging that dead weight inside you. I bet you're used to it by now. Bet you don't even notice."

Olesya stopped. "What dead weight?"

Yuri smiled. "Let me make you some tea, and we'll have us a little talk. A hot cup of tea is what you need right now. What do you say?"

"A hot cup of tea," Olesya repeated. It sounded perfect. She could hide in his room. Let him talk. She'd just sit there and nod. "Okay . . . I guess."