Gayle Forman. When she left (№ 212293)

But I think in the corner we safe. While I don't make the mistake of throwing a controlling glance over the shoulder to make sure no one really looks at me. And in that split second is what I was hoping to avoid - I stumble upon someone's opinion. And I see that in the eyes of the illuminate glitter of recognition, as when you swipe your match. I almost feel in the air the smell of phosphorus. All of the following seem to be happening in slow motion. First I hear that it becomes unnatural quiet. And then hear a low rumbling, which spread the news. I hear his name, a whisper passed through the bustling train. I see passengers pushing each other elbows. Take out your cell phones, grab the bags, get together, shuffles the feet. All this happens in seconds, but it's always painful, as the moment when the first blow is already done, but have not yet reached the goal. The guy with the beard is prepared to come forward, opening her mouth to call my name. I know he doesn't want to hurt me, but as soon as he turn to me, the whole train staring at me. Thirty seconds before the gates of Hell open.