train stations

vi.

She didn't know she slept (she did not feel rested)—only that she opened her eyes and the stars were gone. Sometime, it had stopped raining.

Grey light shone into her heavy, blinking eyes, and shortly after, a man came by with a small cart, passing out breakfast trays and coffee.

She stared at her food. Her stomach quivered. If she ate, she would vomit and all her wrongdoings would spill out of her throat—she wondered how much longer she would be able to contain them. They seemed to pulse within her organs, burning through her esophagus.

She wanted to fall into her coffee and drown in the bitter darkness. Like melting into space, she would no longer be human—just forgotten.

She moved her food aside.

She needed to let drops of her wrongdoings dribble out of her lips. Pouring would be too hasty. It would make a much worse mess, and she was trying to stay clean, especially after the rain. This kind of confession (pulled out of her throat like a string) needed patience.