The final heave and dying sigh of the train as it pulls to a stop in St. Petersburg drags you awake. You check the time and glance at your bags before sleep-walking down the aisle to the narrow alcove at the far end of the carriage. There's a woman at the basin and she turns away from the mirror as you approach. You catch a glimpse of her from the side and then from behind as she walks back the way you came. Middle-Eastern, you guess, with the hair and bangles. Or Minneapolis –- you never know these days. Not that it mattered. If it weren't for this meeting in Leningrad, you'd follow her off the train just to say hello, maybe invite her for a strong bitter coffee in some dark basement bistro. You slap a little sense into yourself, slick your hair back with wet hands, dry them on your jacket and return to your seat. Your camera is still hanging from the coat hook where you left it but the luggage rack looks a little empty with just your shaving kit on it. Through the window, you see a tight white t-shirt weaving its way through the dark-clad crowd, listing a little under weight. Why did the simplest tasks have to get so complicated. You absently touch your holster, retrieve your Dopp kit and camera, and walk towards the steps. You're traveling light now so it shouldn't be too difficult to keep her in sight. Lucky for you the city is beautiful this time of year. You might get in a few shots.
