Rasool first heard Anna’s laugh over the hiss of a late-night bus. Rain had rearranged the city into gleaming streets and reflected neon; the passengers inside the bus moved like a small, private ocean. He noticed her because she read with an intensity that made the world around her blur—pages under the streetlight’s glassy eye. He was a taxi driver who kept time by other people’s departures. She was a young nurse, new to the city, carrying a quiet hope like a folded letter.