The Secret Double-Lives of Strangers on Trains ✓

(The Secret Double Lives of) Strangers on Trains

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"Are you alright?"

I instantly jolted, spilling the paper cup of now-cold coffee over the table in front of me. Bursting into a stream of apologies, I began to scramble frantically through my handbag for tissues to mop up the mess.

I squinted. The white-bright springtime sun had burst out from behind the racing trees to cast a search spotlight over the train's dull interior.

"No, no, no," the stranger apologised hastily. "It's fine, it's fine. I shouldn't have startled you. I have a packet of tissues in my bag somewhere if that'd help?" he asked, casting a glance at the briefcase on the seat next to him.

"Don't worry," I muttered, now holding a wad of soaked tissues. Stuck on a moving train, I had no idea what to do with it, so I just put it down quietly on the table and we stared at it for a few silent seconds.

I sighed, and we listened to the background chatter for a while. The silence was weighted with static tension. I was determined to break it.

"So, I'm sorry, what did you want?"

The man gave an uncomfortable little shuffle. "Well, I mean, you looked kind of sad? I guess I felt the need to say something."

"Sad?" I was on the way back from work, ready to greet last night's Countdown taped and waiting for me in my flat. I honestly had nothing to be sad about.

"Slightly melancholy," he elaborated. "Almost like you were in a trance."

It was very possible that this man had just witnessed me staring gormlessly out of a window and mistook it for some form of philosophical musing.

I had taken a moment to gaze out at the city dashing by. I'll admit, I found it far too easy to get lost in the passing comfort of those elusive yellow windows. By the time I'd torn my eyes away, there had been a young man in a second-hand suit sat opposite me, gawking at me like a lab scientist.

"Well, I'm not trying to be rude or intrusive or anything," he went on, making an animated hand motion with every word, "but was that meditation right there? I'm hoping to complete a study on ancient meditation versus modern. Whether consumerism has severed its roots and whatnot. Like yoga."

"Like yoga," I repeated cautiously.

I had no idea where he was going with this, and I truthfully felt a little uncomfortable that a stranger had been watching me stare stupidly out of a window for this long.

Scooting a little closer to the edge of his seat, the man said, "So, what kind of meditation was that? Ancient Buddhist or a more modern variant?"

"I wasn't meditating," I explained quickly, watching his face fall. "I was just...you know. Watching windows."

After a second spent looking thoroughly disappointed, the stranger instantly perked up and straightened his dejected slouch. "So you were curtain twitching?"

"Well no, obviously not, we're on a high-speed train," I defended, crossing my arms tight.

"Yeah, that just adds an element of excitement. Extreme Curtain-Twitching," he mused, smirking as the words left his mouth.

"For god's sake..."

I had every intention of shoving some headphones on and avidly ignore the man. What made me stop, however, was that I could see him staring out of the train window as I had been. His eyes dashed left to right as he tried to catch each rare yellow frame against the pale city silhouettes.