Dust

The walk took a while. I was starting to get thirsty, but that hardly bothered me. The weather was too nice for me to care about such things. I had already made my way past the river some time ago. Now, I was following the tracks, walking on the dry, yellowish grass, off the beaten path. Not a soul to disturb my pilgrimage.

The rusted tracks seemed to go on forever. But I knew I was getting closer and closer. The heady scent of wild flowers I didn’t know the names of numbed my senses. I was walking in a sweet delirium, yet still completely conscious of my surroundings. I passed the first train car. Deteriorated and dented though it was, it had a certain unique beauty to it. The sunlight reflected off of it made its surface glow like a fiercely orange light bulb.  And there were more like it. Some redder and scarier, emptier, while others were covered in mold and lime, others yet seemed virtually undamaged.

And then, I reached my destination. The door to the large, steel car hanged open. I pulled on it. With a loud clang it fell to the ground. I found myself inside. The sun seeped in through the windows, dust particles floating silently like tiny little galaxies in a cold, damp universe. One, two, three rows I passed and took a left. The seat was loose. Just like I left it. I lifted it up, pulling the dust galaxies into a frenzy, making them swirl chaotically, shake and collide. This frantic ray of light illuminated the person I had left under the seat. His hair seemed longer, his fingers bonier, his skin a shade greener. I could see his teeth now. It looked like a nasty little grin. The stench was putrid, but it was still nice to see him again.

“Hello again, old friend,” I said as I grabbed his bony, moldy finger. It seemed to be barely there.