Fiction Writings...

Trains

I was having that same day dream all over again. The one where I don’t really know you yet. All I see is you, this dark clad mystery woman who is walking along-side of a train as it pulls into the station. You look older, but in a younger period of time, a time when trains were still all the rage for travel. I see you from afar as I seem to be just hanging around waiting for you to appear and come into my life. You’re looking for something, or someone though I hope to myself that it’s not the latter. You keep looking down and up from the ticket you hold in your hand to the signs posted above. It seems like one of those commercials that you watch on TV, in fact I think in my real life I’m doing just that, watching one of those sappy commercials and thinking of you instead of the woman selling my perfume or nylon stockings. But in my head the way you look I would buy anything from you if you had the notion to walk up to me and say, “Pardon me sir, but you look as if you could use ‘Librederm Shampoo’.” My only reply would be to look in those stark brown eyes of yours and reply that ‘Librederm’ was in fact the very thing that I had been searching for my whole life.
My real fear is that it won’t happen like that at all. My real fear is that you’ll find that train car that you’re looking for long before you even glance my way, and you‘ll board that train and I’ll be whimsically looking after it as the steam hisses out and the train starts away. End of Film, fin, that’s all folks. That’s my real fear. That for some reason there is some other dapperly dressed high society man sitting on the train in the car you’re looking for, and it’s him that your mind is on not even knowing that somebody has been watching your whole being as you approached them even for a few brief moments in time. That I had made those moments out to be the study of a lifetime; the bounce of your hair as walked, the flutter of your lashes, the strides you took, the shift in the hem of you dress as you came, undaunted, wary and confident. I hope that there isn’t someone on that train.
Then I realize that these are, after all, my thoughts and I can have happen whatever I feel like. So instead of boarding the train you pause. You have the feeling of someone looking at you as you stare at your ticket and I, head half cocked am looking back at you. Hands in my pockets I half hope that you look up to see me standing there, but don’t know what I should do if that happens. You’re studying you ticket intently now looking for your car.
“Help you miss?” It is just like they do in the movies; I come up before you and ask, and you flutter for a moment and reply ‘No, thank you.’ I tip my hat a bit and smile as I start away, my heart leaping at the meeting of this mysterious woman.