He kept a diary of the rails he’d ridden, the crossings he’d recorded. He saw life through rail metaphors, strong couplings, keeping switches closed that might lead off the main line. And signal blocks along the way, showing green for the distance of a good run of life. Delores listened, fascinated, and promised him he wasn’t boring her. This isn’t a date, she heard herself saying, and for a moment she feared she’d said it out loud.