An elderly woman boards a train and slowly realizes the passengers look strangely familiar.

The elderly woman took the key, and with a focused, desperate will, she willed it to rattle loudly against the metal edge of the desk.

The young woman on the phone flinched at the sound, momentarily distracted from her father’s demanding monologue. Her eyes darted to the key, then to the lockbox, her expression shifting from desperation to a dawning realization. The savings. It wouldn’t be as much as her father’s loan, but it was theirs. It was freedom.

“Wait,” the young woman whispered into the phone, her voice regaining a thread of its former strength. “I’m sorry, Father, but I can’t agree to those terms. I appreciate the offer, but we’re going to find another way.” She hung up the phone abruptly, the loud clack echoing in the small office. She stared at the phone, then at the lockbox, then finally straightened her shoulders, breathing deeply. The look of relief and fierce determination that replaced the tears was palpable. The decision was made. The mistake was averted. She had chosen independence over her father’s gilded cage, and kept her fellowship dream alive, even if it meant a harder path.

The office dissolved instantly. The sound was deafening, a rushing, roaring sound like water being drawn back into a deep well. She felt a profound sense of lightness, as if a great, chronic weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

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