My heart races. My palms are sweaty. I can’t help but to nervously look around. The constant hum of chatter acts as a backdrop to the rest of the scene.
There’s a baby crying. A little girl begs her father to get her balloon. She let go of the string, and it floated up to the ceiling. I guess she’s still at the age where she believes her daddy’s a superhero, and there’s nothing he can’t do. He tries to explain, but it’s in vain. There’s the usual call and response of a cough answered by another cough answered by another cough and so on. The clack of luggage wheels echoes throughout the station. My phone is the only thing silent in the building.
The train pulls up. People come pouring out. Some passengers struggle with luggage. Some are greeted by someone waiting in the station.
A few minutes later, the engineer steps out of the train. It’s like something out of an old black and white movie. He checks his pocket watch and yells out, “All aboard!”
I hand my ticket to one of the people stationed at each car and board.
A train? That’s so perfect for me. I choose an escape that’s not only slow but affixed to a track from which it cannot veer.
I take one last glance out the window. I can’t believe you let me leave. I don’t know why I thought you would come. Maybe someday I’ll learn not to run away.