An Auspicious Train Ride

The train pulls to a stop at the platform and he gets on. He looks around and finds a seat. He walks over and sits down, sliding his pack into the seat next to him. It’s late and the train is lightly populated. It’s not exactly empty, but there’s no one standing except a man with a bicycle.

He reaches into his pack and pulls out a book on the Cold War. He needs to read the next few chapters for class that weekend.

+++

The train pulls to a stop at the platform and she gets on. She looks around and finds a seat. She walks over and sits down, sliding her pack into the seat next to her. It’s late. She’s not usually out at this time, but work was hectic and she needed to stay later than ideal.

She leans her back and closes her eyes as the train begins to roll again. She’s getting off at the last stop, so she feels she can get a little rest before then.

+++

The train jerks to a stop and he’s pulled from his concentration. He looks around, committing Khrushchev’s name to memory. As he’s watching, a young woman walks onto the train. He is instantly intrigued.

He watches her discretely as she moves to an empty seat and sits down. She leans her head against the window and closes here eyes. She’s clearly tired and has drifted off to sleep.

He knows it’s rude to stare, but he can’t help it. She’s really quite pretty. Her long, black hair is held back with a black scrunchie. She has dark skin, but he can tell she’s not African-American. He’d probably say Indian if he were asked. Black, oblong glasses rest on her plump, smooth face. They seem to accentuate her features more than he thought possible.

She begins to stir as the train rolls into the next stop. He quickly returns to his book. He’s lost his place and begins reading the page again.

+++

She wakes as the train rumbles to a stop. She stretches yawns and rubs here eyes. She looks out the window to see which station they are at. It isn’t her stop. Her stop is still a while off.

She looks around as the car empties. Nobody gets on, but plenty of people get off. There’re still a number of people on the train, but that number has greatly decreased. She looks around at the people still on board.

Her gaze falls on a young man reading a few seats down. She cocks an eyebrow at him. He appears to be engrossed in his book and oblivious of her.

She looks him over. He’s not bad looking. His face is a light brown, yet she could tell it was tanned, as if he spent a lot of time outdoors. He keeps his face smooth, clear of hair, though it looks like he might have forgotten to shave that morning as she could see slight stubble. His brown hair is scruffy but still kept in a pleasing style, combed back.

A new wave of exhaustion sweeps over her, and she puts her pack on its side and leans down across the seat, using the pack as a pillow. She closes here eyes again and lets the rocking of the train ease her back to sleep.

+++

He looks up from his book. She’s resting again, across the seat. His eyes stray down her body. The purple raincoat she’s wearing is pulled tight over her, for warmth. Her dark blue jeans hug her hips and legs in a very pleasing manner. Her feet, which rest in white tennis shoes, are tucked up on the seat with her. She’s a small person, able to curl up on the small bench only meant for two people.

Her resting face is so peaceful. He wonders why she’s so tired. He wonders what’s she’s dreaming of. It’s obviously very nice, the way she smiles like that. He smiles, too. She’s very pretty when she smiles like that.

He watches her while she sleeps, feeling a little guilty. She seems so very peaceful. She moves and brushes her long black hair out of her face, giving him a better view as they roll along the tracks. He realizes that he’s smiling like an idiot and shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He forcibly returns to his book.

+++

She wakes again but keeps here eyes closed, trying to will herself back to sleep. But it’s no use. She sits up and looks out the window. The same scene passes by that always does. As they pass the golfing range, she lets her gaze drift back to the young man.

He’s back to his book now, moving his lips slightly as he reads. She smiles. It’s cute. He has broad shoulders and a powerful frame. He stretches his arm out over the back of his seat and grips the hand rail, giving her some perspective of his hand’s size. He’s obviously a massive person.

He wears a jacket that was once black but is now heavily faded. Under that, she can see a simple gray shirt. From the way it pokes out around his jacket’s cuffs, it’s probably long sleeved. A seat prevents her from seeing much more. She looks out the window, imagining him in faded jeans and black boots, smiling at the image.

+++

He looks up at her. She’s awake now, looking out the window, smiling. Her smile is beautiful. He can’t get it out of his head. He puts the book away, giving up on reading anymore. He can’t get her out of his mind. He leans his head back and looks up at the roof of the train car.

He’s never seen her before. He takes this train all the time, but she’s never been on it. He would know. What troubles brought her here at this time, then? She’s no stranger to public transportation. Not if she can sleep so peacefully.

She’s probably late from work. Yes. That would explain it. She’s late from work and getting a later train. That would also explain why she’s so tired. Working later than desired can do that to a person.

What does she do, then? She’s about his age, so she’s probably still working her way through school. Maybe a receptionist. He looks at his watch. Yes, this would be late for a nine-to-five receptionist. But then why was she working late?

More likely she works for a store of some kind. Probably a book store. He looks at her face again, framed by the glasses. And she had to stay late to do inventory of some sort. That would make sense. That kind of task could be mentally draining.

He blinks rapidly, trying to get the image of her bent over boxes of books out of his mind.

+++

She looks at him from the reflection. He’s put his book away and is looking up at the ceiling. His head is back and he’s just staring. She can’t seem to get him out of her head.

He probably takes this train all the time. She’s always on two or three trains earlier, so she misses him. What could he do that would need him to be out this late?

He probably works outside. That’s why he’s tanned like he is. Maybe he helps build things. That work was supposed to pay well for strong people. And his frame is obviously built for such work. He’s probably working his way through school like her.

What would he be taking? He’s about her age, so they’re probably in the same situation, taking GE classes. He’s probably taking history. And English. And math. Probably some higher level math class. Like Calculus or something. He looks smart.

She looks past the reflection, out at the scenery passing by. She tries to imagine him in a class room. The desks are probably too small for him. He would need an actual table. Or maybe in the lecture hall class rooms, those little fold-out tables would work.

The train comes rolling into the last station before it turns around and heads back the way it had come. She gathers her bag and gets up.

+++

He rises from his seat as the train comes to a stop, ducking under the hand rail. She get up and slides on her pack. They’re both trying hard not to look at the other, not to betray their interest.

As they both situate themselves, the train jerks once more as it sometimes does. They are jostled around and when they get their footing again, they’re looking right at each other. They freeze for a moment before they both brake down and smile.