Prerana was grateful for the biting cold air that numbed her entire face. It felt like a tight slap. Surely she deserved that? Surely she wasn't meant to cry away the entire night, only to drag herself to work every morning – so early that the sun hadn't woken up yet? No, she decided. This was a ridiculous way to live. Someone – or something – had to slap some sense into her.
She stood on her usual spot, waiting for her usual train. Despite the early morning, there was the usual crowd of women waiting for the same train; in this city that never slept, people started working when it was dark as night and only stopped when it was time for the last train to leave. She hoped that her Ponds cream was sufficiently covering up her swollen eyes. If not, she had a Ray Bon for later – when the sun rose and she had that excuse.