It’s 13:59, and the intercity Bordeaux-Narbonne departs at 14:00. I have sixty seconds to decide whether or not to stay on the train. I reread the text I just received from my Airbnb host in Narbonne: “I can’t receive you today, my apologies.”

My son, who took me to the station, has already left in time to manage the afternoon shift at the Irish pub where he works. I’ve never been to Narbonne, the town in southern France where I’d hoped to spend my break. I’ll be forced to orient myself in an unfamiliar district and scramble—in 30°C heat—for a room in a pricey hotel.

I spiral into a panic, which grows in intensity even after I decide to stay on the train and begin planning for contingencies. I can’t find my password journal, which means I can’t message my Airbnb host, Rodolphe, via the app. I convince myself that I must have mislaid the journal while buying a pair of Reeboks earlier in the day, and perhaps someone is wiping my savings account while I agonize on the train.

Lee Nash Lee Nash writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. Her work has been widely published in journals and anthologies and has won international competitions. Site: leenashwriting.com | Instagram