Just then a thought hits me. Maybe-just maybe-this girl's my sister. She's about the right age. Her odd looks aren't at all like the girl in the photo, but you can't always count on that. Depending on how they're taken people sometimes look totally different. She said she has a brother my age who she hasn't seen in ages. Couldn't that brother be me-in theory, at least?
I stare at her chest. As she breathes, the rounded peaks move up and down like the swell of waves, somehow reminding me of rain falling softly on a broad stretch of sea. I'm the lonely voyager standing on deck, and she's the sea. The sky is a blanket of gray, merging with the gray sea off on the horizon. It's hard to tell the difference between sea and sky. Between voyager and sea. Between reality and the workings of the heart.
The girl wears two rings on her fingers, neither of which is a wedding or engagement ring, just cheap things you find at those little boutiques girls shop at. Her fingers are long and thin but look strong, the nails are short and nicely trimmed with a light pink polish. Her hands are resting lightly on the knees thrust out from her miniskirt. I want to touch those hands, but of course I don't. Asleep, she looks like a young child. One pointy ear peeks out from the strands of hair like a little mushroom, looking strangely fragile.
I shut my book and look for a while at the passing scenery. But very soon, before I realize it, I fall asleep myself.