The Quiet Observer

You press into the corner, breath fogging the glass, and let the others argue without you. From the shadows, details sharpen. The woman in the grey parka keeps one hand clamped over her left pocket — something heavy shifts inside whenever the cabin sways.

Across from her, a thin man hunches over a phone with a black screen, lips moving in urgent whispers. No signal. No light. No one on the other end. Yet he keeps talking.

Above you, the cable lets out a long, metallic groan, and ice rains down the windows like static. Whatever these two are hiding, the gorge won't wait for the truth.