“Tickets please.”

“Wha-huh, heh?” mumbled Jake, coming rudely to his senses.

“Tickets please,” repeated the sharply dressed man in the little blue cap.

“Huh? Who the…”

“I’m the ticket agent, of course. Tickets please.” He held out his hand. In a blur a lovely woman with startlingly dark hair took a seat across from Jake.

“Allow me,” she said sweetly, handing two tickets to the agent, “Destination Absolution.”

As the agent left Jake ventured, “Don’t I know you?” He tried framing her face in a little square with his hands.

“I’m not Alfred Hitchcock, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she teased with a wry smile.

“No, you’re…hey, did you say Absolution? How the crap did I get on a train? And, and…”

“So many questions, how can I keep up?” Her eyebrow raised in mocking salute.

“Aha! You’re Ana Christina, and…but you live in Florida, and I live in Wisconsin, but…and the train…which means…”

“That you need to lay off the alcohol to avoid these weird dreams, mijo.”