train stations

ii.

She gazed at the woman sitting across from her, wondering why she decided to talk to someone with empty, hollow eyes and pale lips.

"Where are you going?" Melanie asked.

"I'm not sure, really," she admitted.

She noticed the small crease that formed between Melanie's eyebrows, but she pretended it wasn't there.

She's already realizing that I'm damaged—broken.

"Well, where'd you buy your ticket to?"

She feels so alive, compared to me.

She told her where the ticket said she was going. Her voice felt separate from her body.

"I'm going a little south of there."

"For what?"

"To see my grandmother," she explained, tugging her hood down over her hair. "She's sick. I doubt she'll know who I am, but at this point, I think saying goodbye is more for me."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Her chest was tight. Don't let her see.

"Are you thirsty?" Melanie asked.

She cleared her throat, suddenly completely aware that she felt terribly dry, even with all the rain. "Yeah, maybe a little."

"I'll grab you some water, if you want."

The train cried and began to breathe—it wasn't a machine, but a monster.

"Oh, we're going to be leaving soon," Melanie said. "What time is it?"

She told her.

"Are you sure you're not tired?"

"I guess I am kind of tired," she said. Every moment she was awake, she was tired.

"I'll let you go to sleep then," Melanie said with a gentle smile. "It was nice meeting you."

"You too," she watched her walk away.

After another cry, the train began moving.

She rubbed away some of the condensation from the window and watched the world around her slowly drift off until trees were whizzing past. Someone came by with blankets and pillows, double-checking her ticket.

She unzipped her backpack and pulled out paper and a pen. She didn't take much else with her—just a change of clothes, paper, and all the cash she had. She couldn't think of anything else to bring when she left. There was nothing else she needed.

She pulled the small table out from her seat and began writing.