I was a young woman in an empty warehouse or counting house with another woman. A man, one of our employers, came in and asked me in a whisper to make sure of some numbers he believed to be off. He seemed sad. I thought, “He doesn’t trust the other man.” He looked at me oddly and I sensed that he did trust me and was counting on me to do this right for him.

After he left, I looked at the other woman as I had no idea what I was supposed to do and didn’t want to be caught letting the young man down. She helped me to escape.

My way lay in front of houses fronted by water — lots of water. I couldn’t run but had to pick my way carefully between the patches of water because I didn’t know how deep they were. A river ran beyond the front yards, and water was everywhere.

A boy spotted me and invited me into his house. I needed to keep moving and didn’t like that he’d seen me, but I needed the break.

I came to a train that had open-air cars. As it sped though sunny fields and even forests, I felt horrible and guilty because I had not been able to help the young man. I began to cry because I knew he loved me, and maybe I loved him, too.