" Derek glanced over at her. Then he closed his magazine, leaving a finger inside as a marker, and undid his seat belt and stood up. “Trade places with me,” he said. Willa gazed up at him imploringly. “Come on. Move.” She fumbled for her seat belt. She undid the buckle, holding her breath, and then she clutched her purse and sat forward, wincing as she braced for the slam of the bullet. Nothing happened. "
― Anne Tyler , Clock Dance