The world was spinning around her as people marched by hurrying here and back, everyone knew where they were going. Fanguella got up, walked to the ticket booth. “I'll take the next train out of here. I don't care where.” The woman behind the ticket booth gave her a funny look. "Well, next train goes east to Montreal.  Forty please." Handing her the money, Fanguella turned and rushed to terminal eight. Rushing up the stairs, she foolishly broke into a run as she turned the corner, and crashed right into a man's hard back. He quickly swiveled around and caught her as she stumbled. Sorry!" They both said. Glancing up, she saw a face that looked a lot like Richards. She hurried off, just as the train was about to depart. She was really starting to lose it now, seeing him, and that other one everywhere. People she knew were coming out of the woodwork right when all she wanted was to be left alone. Yet she worried, what if it was Richard, and he appeared to be rushing for the same train. She threw her small luggage in the overhead, and sat down with a sigh, closing her eyes. She concentrated on breathing. She needed to start feeling normal again, yet she did not know where to start. Her mind danced with images of Douglas, his face, his various expressions. She remembered Richards phone messages, his voice, his touch. She reminded herself to breath. She could relax, and think of such things, in fact she had to, or else what else would she think of? Her thoughts would come back to herself, her weaknesses, her memories, her pain. She knew the pattern. She forced herself to relax her shoulders. They were tight and aching. She rubbed at them absentmindedly. What had happened to her that she should become so wound up, so conscious of all the wrong things? She wondered if that fat man across the aisle was watching her. She hated drawing attention. Sometimes she wished that she were invisible, that she could just pass through walls, watch people go about their daily business unaware, and acting as they would act when they feel that nobody was watching them. She worried that people could hear her thinking, and quickly an image of the fat man appeared in her mind, of him wearing only his underwear. She shut her eyes tight, pretending to sleep, feeling her face flush, worried that maybe he somehow knew her thoughts, or perhaps had somehow put that vision into her mind. She couldn't shake her fears, she felt her hands start to shake and helpless tears slipped through her closed lids. After a time, she slept.