A different turn

13minutes.
That is how long the solitude had lasted.
He knew because he owned a watch. He was also wearing it at the time. And he had looked at it when he had settled in, and wearily turned to it again when the inevitable had happened. He was pained, but he almost expected it. Murphy had always been a close associate, and his laws were binding.

On the berth across from him now sat a girl. Her name was Reese, she was 26 years old and was studying for a second Masters degree. Only, Anion had not yet spoken to her. He reflected on this information though they had not exchanged a word. In fact, he could not remember her having taken her shoes and hat off, nor fishing out a notebook from her bag. Nor, indeed, had he seen her pull up her knees close to herself and rest the notebook on it. He only remembered her peeping in, checking the berth number and nodding imperceptibly toward him, acknowledging his presence.
Yet there it all was, her hat hung on the hook, her shoes tucked on top of her bag below the berth, a 2B pencil poised uncertainly above a page on her knee.

He realized he was staring at her just as she noticed it. She looked up, enquiring but not aggressive. His glassy stare snapped, his eyes came unstuck, and he shook his head like a dog that had just bathed. He knew it was foolish even though he couldn’t see himself.

She smiled, and said “Hi, Anion”