I’m standing at the train tracks. The platform is dark except for the muddy yellow street lights overhead.
Across the tracks I can see into the city. Neon stores signs flicker “open” & “24 hours.” The crosswalk signal counts down from 10 in an orange glow.
It’s freezing cold. I miss my gloves. There’s a chill in the evening air that feels wrong, like news that arrives too early. Or maybe it’s right on time. In the steady silence, I’m left with nothing but my own thoughts.
I don’t exactly know how I got here. Well, I mean, of course I know. I walked here, like I do every Monday after my shift ends. But now, I will leave this routine behind. I will shed it uncomfortably to lay naked for a time, until I find new clothes. New opportunity.
As much as I mourn the loss of this comfort, I can already feel the buzz of something new stirring. Its coming. I feel it creeping slowly in the air, drawing me in. But I can’t help but wonder if it’s just my own well of hope reflecting back at me. I always feel optimistic as one door closes, convinced that I’ll hear the click-click of another opening.
It’s never a guarantee, though. Sure, there will be something else. But will it be better? How long will I have to wait?
In the distance, I hear the faint ringing of the coming train. With each second, the bell tolls louder and louder. I feel a push in the air the moment before the train passes. In a split second, it is whirring by me.
As it slows to a stop, I let out a long, cool breath. This train is heading home.