Vladimir Nabokov. Una cuestión de suerte
She hurried out of the compartment; arms spread, swaying this way and that, holding back her tears, she traversed one car, another. She reached the end of the sleeping car and, through the rear door, saw-nothing but air, emptiness, the night sky, the dark wedge of the roadbed disappearing into the distance.
She thought she had got mixed up and gone the wrong way. With a sob, she headed back.
Next to her, by the toilet door, stood a little old woman wearing a gray apron and an armband, who resembled a night nurse. She was holding a little bucket with a brush sticking out of it.
"They uncoupled the diner," said