Through different eyes || GlovesUp SmackDown Contest

Farewells

Round 1 Bonus: Steampunk

I've never been on the train. Sure did I played on one, fixed one, cleaned and helped building one, but I was never a passenger.

A Flower roughly forged and about the size of my forearm laid on the counter. The note impaled on a leaf says: „Save Travels. Return if you miss the steam."

I laugh under my breath. He has no idea how much I am going to miss him.

...

One last walk down the crowded street. He's right.

Walking down the street will lose all its charm when there is no Percival rushing outside when he sees me to proudly present the newest addition to his collections of autonomous robots. Today it's a small bird. It can lift the thin copper wings, but functions more as a collector's piece. Before I continue my last errand, he stopped me by the wrist and carefully places the bird into my hand. A parting gift, he says.

My feet dragged me further into the mess of touring salesman, each of them presenting their little somethings. Inventions in all colors and shapes lay out in the windows of the shops seaming the street. Usually, I stop at one lit up by four kerosene lamps in each corner. This particular window is distinguished from the others by not only the light, but by the mystery.

 Every day there's something else displayed. This time, in front of a satin curtain stood a clock. The moment I came to a halt before it, the clock struck six. Next to the clock face, a flock of starlings appeared, striving towards the elongated line of the digit six.

The exhibit couldn't have been more fitting for the present day. A day of farewells, of flying away.

The path I wandered on a daily felt different. For the first time, I feared the end of the street. The dreading building hovered over the street, marking the undeniable end.

Dark blocks came closer with each step. The trip of goodbyes ends in front of a wall with see-through pipes. Like usually, I hold out a sheet of paper documenting my work for the week to see it travel up through the pipes. The opening revealed an envelope. The final pay.

A little letter reminded me of all the reasons to leave. The biggest of them I needed was an unfulfilled want for adventure, something different, more. One look down a street full of memories must be enough. Then I sneak back through a familiar labyrinth of backstreets to the railway station.

...

I stood at the little balcony on the last wagon to look up. I had to stretch my neck to see the square of light between the long necks of chimneys. Clouds of steam traveled down the back of the train, letting the colorful houses of the wealthy owners between the gray factory homes fade. 

I waited until the train reached the bridge into a new future and whispered one last farewell into the wind, my hand gently cupping the head of the little bird in my bag.