[A little something something I wrote on the train… I could probably make a whole story/series around this imaginary girl]
She is on the train, she occupies the purple blue seat opposite me. The morning sun caresses her face. Her hands rest on the plastic white table that separates us.
She is looking outside the window, admiring the lush green scenery and captivating Scottish landscape.
I can’t see that place beyond the window. I can’t see the horses grazing or the houses swirling past.
I can’t see beyond her.
I reach out tentatively; I want to hold her hand. To feel her.
She giggles, her hand slips out of the way before I reach her. She looks right at me, as if through me. The table is cold beneath my fingers. I recoil and sit back. I blink.
I step off the train and onto the platform. The concrete beneath my feet reminds me I have to engage my muscles. They must engage so I can stand.
I stand alone.
A trick of the light. A product of early morning delirium and a lapse of memory. That’s all it is. That’s all she is. All she ever was.
Lapse of memory. Early morning delirium. That’s all.