Taking the first seat near the door, Andrew suddenly felt exhausted. He had intended to work during the 30-minute ride to the suburbs but found himself wanting to just sit there and stare at the color-coded map of the transit system and ponder the geographic layout of the Bay Area. Anything to take his mind off the board meeting.
Just as the train descended into the darkness of the tunnel that ran beneath the bay and Andrew’s eyes began to close, one of the connecting doors behind him opened. He turned and saw an elderly man wearing some sort of uniform step into the car. He appeared to be a janitor of some kind; the name “Charlie” was patched onto the pocket of his gray shirt.
Suddenly Andrew felt uncomfortable.