You wait your whole life on the platform, alone with your bags watching people pass by—lovers, businessmen, mothers, the lost, the lonely, the early morning drunks. The train arrives, you see all the faces through glass and think how different you are, how you’ve always been moving and never arriving. You watch the train depart and await another when perhaps things will be different, better, and the stars less far.
Written for Three Line Tales, Week 90.
Image credit: Andre Benz via Unsplash