Backpacker Waiting for her Train

I wondered if I would have noticed her if the platform hadn’t been so empty. Weirdly empty, like she was the only person left (except me, and I was watching her, I wasn’t part of the scene, so I’m not sure I existed or counted in this scenario). She was looking down the tracks, waiting for the right train, her train, the one that would take her away, somewhere. Her blondish hair was pulled up in a bun, a scarf tied loosely around her neck. I wished I could see her eyes, but I guess it really didn’t matter.

Her train was now my train. I’d see her eyes up close soon enough.

Right then I knew that that was my train too.

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