Three days ago, I broke my arm after a nasty fall down the stairs. The pain was almost unbearable, and even painkillers didn’t do much to ease it. But what hurt the most was the feeling of helplessness.
I decided to stay with my parents for a while—it would be quieter for them and easier for me. I bought a ticket for a lower bunk in a compartment because with my broken arm, I couldn’t manage the upper bunk. I settled in as best as I could. As the train jolted into motion, a woman entered the compartment. She was about fifty, well-groomed, confident, and wore a look that immediately told me trouble was coming.
