A voice
echoes in the compartment. We’re having a 15-minute delay. I can hardly hold
out any longer. Two more minutes and I’ll probably start biting my nails. Two
more minutes, and it’ll get worse. I really fucking hope this train stops soon.
I really wish there wasn’t a ban on smoking on trains. I really wish I could
quit. Or maybe I really wish I would just keep find excuses not to. Who cares? Just get me off this train. The
lady opposite me is trying to hide it, but I can tell that she’s been watching
me throughout the whole ride, turning her head away whenever I looked back. Her
gaze is piercing and judgmental, as if she’s trying to make me feel guilty for
something.
“Excuse
me,” I say to her quietly. I point my shaky hand to her fat left cheek. “You
have a, uh…” I then gesture to my own cheek and start scratching, hoping she’d
catch on that there’s something on her face. And she catches on. Now I can
relax for at least a moment without the need to worry about some old hag
silently judging me for God-knows-what.
After what
seems like an eternity, the train finally stops. I get up and pull on my cloak
in a hurry. One of the many boons of travelling light is that I can leave the
train really fast, since there’s no luggage to slow me down. I get out of the
car in what can be described as an almost-leap. It’s hard to contain the
excitement.
My hands
shake as I flick the lighter on. The gentle sizzle when the flame finally
touches the cigarette is music to my ears. I close my eyes. My lips close on
the cigarette, embracing it like an old friend that they haven’t seen for
years. I breathe in and life starts to have meaning again. I open my eyes to
finally see the coldness around me. The platform is covered in a thin layer of
fresh snow, the frosty panes of the train’s windows are almost opaque. I can
feel a breeze behind me, accompanied by a painful noise. And so my train was
gone, but I didn’t feel like moving at all. The train in front of me starts to
move.
Then I
notice something. A person, barely glimpsed in the corner of my eye. A woman. A
breathtaking piece of art. She makes her way across the tracks to the platform
in front of me, by the looks of it. Her thick black hair bouncing off her big
cloak that did little to cover her long legs in aggressively red high-heels, as
she keeps walking, dragging her suitcase behind her. Her lips are just as red,
vivid as blood on her white, porcelain-like face. She glances in my general
direction, but pays me little mind. That one look, though, is enough for me to
want her. Those chocolate eyes with eyelashes that seem to beckon me closer. I
almost move, but the smoke keeps me there. Someday,
I think. I feel a chill on my face. I bury it deeper into my scarf. The girl
disappears behind the train. Maybe,
someday.
It’s me and
the smoke, and the chill, yet again. Another whiff, another surge of warmth. I
am drowning in bliss. I picture the girl, I can see myself take off that cloak,
caress those legs. The train moves away in a heartbeat, and I see her again.
She has her back to me, the cloak dominating the whole picture this time. I can
imagine how warm she must be now. How safe it must feel, being with her. She’s
probably seeing someone already, though. I don’t think you get dressed like
that for a family visit. I wonder if she has children. She looks my age, so that’s
more than old enough to have kids. I bet she’d make a great mother. Someday.
Her train
comes. She starts walking towards it. But then I notice she left her suitcase
by the bench.
“Excuse me,
miss!” I shout. I drop my cigarette. Now
or never. “You forgot something!”
She turns
around, a puzzled look on her face. She looks so adorable I could die. She
notices the suitcase and runs up to it. She notices me. “Thank you so much!”
she shouts back with the most endearing smile I have ever seen. Now or never. Say something. “What a scare,
huh? How about we exchange numbers? I lost my bags too.”
Someday.
She gets on
the train. It goes away without a trace. I light another cigarette. And
another. It’s getting colder. I can’t even feel the smoke anymore. Trains rush
past me one by one, and before I notice, the sky is dark. I can’t help but feel
heavy. I finally decide it’s time to go somewhere. Where to this time, I
wonder? Maybe someday…
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