The last rays of the summer sun were disappearing below the horizon as Charlie boarded the train. The ear splitting whistle did nothing for his towering headache. Weariness hung from his shoulders like an ill-fitting suit, exposing the loser label to anyone whose gaze didn't veer away. He took an empty seat on the aisle, half-way down the car and slouched, holding his briefcase to his chest.

A stranger to the world of business and negotiations, there hadn't been a chance he'd succeed. He'd conned his way into the symposium, but that was the extent of his success. The first question had exposed him for an ignorant impostor. He closed his eyes and put his fingertips to his forehead.

"Excuse me. Is that seat taken?" The voice was too soft, too sultry, too good to be true.
He opened one eye and focused on the silk stocking just inches from his nose. His gaze traveled from the knee up to the decolletage and he swallowed, somehow summoning the urge to impress this ethereal vision that stood before him. His briefcase fell to the floor as he stood.

"Yes, I mean no. You're welcome to sit." He sidled into the aisle and extended his arm to usher her to the window seat.

She adjusted herself, her purse, her book into the seat turning to the window. Charlie sat, maintaining a tenuous hold on his emotions. He almost spoke, but what had he to offer? The train rumbled then jerked, signaling its departure from the village. He closed his eyes and sunk back against the cushions, desperately wanting to be anywhere but here.

"I saw your presentation."

His head swung in her direction. "It was awful."

"Yes, it was, but not as bad as mine."

They laughed. "Can I buy you a drink?"