A Ledger in the Margin

I took a seat in the recessed leather booth at the back of the room, keeping my back to the wood paneling where both exits stayed in view. The evening crowd was thin, murmuring over dark filter coffee. On the table lay an abandoned ceramic saucer holding a grease pencil stub and an untorn transit stub from the U-Bahn line to Tempelhof. I reached out, braced my paw against the rim of the saucer, and turned the ticket over. Scribbled on the reverse was a four-digit platform code matching the rail spur from the map I examined this afternoon. I slid the paper into my inner vest pocket, took a slow breath, and let the room settle around me.