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“You’re going to get murdered today,” the man on the train platform said to me. “And I’m not going to try to stop it. But I would like to observe, if that’s okay.” I turned around and looked at him. He was a tall man in jeans and a black T-shirt, with a cleft chin and a slightly receding hairline. I was sure I had never seen him before. I backed away, and my heel twisted under me. The subway platform was packed with the morning work crowd, everyone looking sticky and harassed in the stifling heat, everyone glued to