The woman on the bus. You never expect your life to be saved by someone you’ll never see again.

Not casually.

Not politely.

She studied me like she was trying to memorize something.

Then, as she sat, her hand snapped around my wrist.

Strong.

Too strong.

She leaned in close enough that I could feel her breath against my cheek.

“If your husband ever gives you jewelry,” she whispered, “soak it in water before you wear it.”

I blinked.

Confused.