It felt as if that departing train was pulling away with the last frayed thread of her hope.

“Now departing on Track 32,” a woman’s disembodied voice announced from the speakers above, smooth and indifferent. “The 8:15 Acela Express to Providence.”

The voice was eerily similar to the one she’d heard on the phone a month ago. “Unfortunately, Ms. Hayes, due to departmental restructuring, your position has been eliminated.” The same dry, lifeless tone, as if reading a schedule rather than dictating the fate of a human being. Thirteen years. She had given that school thirteen years of her life.