They embraced at the train station. It had been two years– two long sufferable years and there she is again looking like the angel he remembered. If the weather wasn’t so overcast and dark, and the train wasn’t emitting eerie howls, the moment would have been quite a romantic one. Instead, it filled the both with a sense of foreboding. Both knew that this was illegal. Both could really cared less.
Station [The Market Spoiler]
With his hand clamped tight around mine, he pulled me through town with an eager smile on his face. “Where are we going?” I asked sharply. He gestured for me to be quiet and continued to tug my arm after him. Eventually, a shape rose from the horizon as we made out way past the city and into the bare land surrounding it. “A train station.” He whispered as a black strip along the ground focused into tracks and the building became distinctly prominent in the landscape; A mangled, overgrown clock continued it’s steady ticks from a nook above the main doors. I have never seen this place before- never even heard of it- and by the current deteriorating state of the loading dock and ticket windows and benches, neither had anyone else in our town.
Train [The Market Spoiler]
The train lolled to a stop not 50 feet from us. I could feel Oddie frozen at my side; his hand squeezing my tiny one till it was white and my fingertips were purpling. Thick billowing smoke rose high into the air as doors of the train carts slid open, screeching angrily. A flood of a hundred, one-hundred-fifty, two hundred and counting soldiers clad in black from head to toe spread out from the train like a nasty oil spill; they stretched and yawned and scratched their stomachs indignantly. Suddenly, I’m being yanked, and Oddie is running and dragging me from the train station with a look of utter terror on his face. I don’t understand it, but I don’t need to. I run with him.
Smile (Totally went past the 1-minute mark on this one.)
Midst the hustle and bustle of people on the streets, I make my way with my head down, a dark curtain of hair veiling my face from the world and its prying eyes. A group of teens to my left walk by briskly laughing and passing a cell phone around with glee. Thoughts storm around my head; memories, no less, and unpleasant ones from my highschool years. A couple across the street smothers each other in eskimo kisses and I think to myself, “I’ve never been given an eskimo kiss.” The sky is a deep grey and mounds of black and purple clouds bank on the east. A fork of lightning cuts across the sky illuminating my destination. A bridge. The sooner I get there the better and then it will all be over and the pain will stop for good. My steps splash across the street and in my nerves and anticipation, I don’t notice the man in front me until we collide and we’re both sprawled into two oily puddles. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I hurry out but he lifts his hand to stop my mutterings. He picks up his satchel and smiles at me warmly before helping me to my feet and strolling away without a word. My eyes follow his handsome figure for some time until its lost in the sea of people. I think, “Maybe, I’ll just go home.”
Day on day I wonder why she is so abstract. Why she constantly fixes me with a look as if I’m a rare specimen she’s analyzing. I wonder why she is so damn perfect in her abundant flaws. She’s an artist– an artist with the talent of a million Picasos and then some. She studies me with smug fondness and a little bit of muffled mirth; not until I peak over her shoulder do I realize with a flattering start that she is drawing me. It’s really a wonder that I don’t smother her till both are breaths leave us for good at the very moment.