Night Train to Surabaya

"One rule," she said, before the train had even cleared the platform. "Until we arrive, we only tell the truth. After that, we never see each other again, so it doesn't matter."

He was folding his jacket. He stopped. "What if the truth is boring?"

"Then it's boring. That's allowed."

The train moved out into the dark between towns, where the only lights were kerosene lamps at level crossings and, once, a whole field of fireflies that neither of them mentioned because it seemed too much like a lie.