Train of Thought

I sat there in the passenger car, rocking back and forth as the train sped along its tracks. I had my own separate room, which I preferred. Licking the tip of my quill, I attempted to write some more on the parchment, only to realize it needed more ink before I could continue. The handwriting was very neat and curvy, looking like a mix between cursive and print. A subtle connection of letters here and there, making a nice flowing line, with a few breaks for certain letters, that continued from one end of the page to the other end.

A knock on the door leading to my compartment startled me out of my deep thought, launching a droplet of ink from the quill's tip to splotch the page, luckily not obscuring any word already written. I looked up and through the window in the door. A beautiful woman with cascading brown hair stood in the hall, waiting politely for me to open the door for her.

As quickly as I could, while being mindful not to mess up my paper any more, I capped the ink, stored the quill, and placed the paper carefully on the seat next to me. I stood, finally, and opened the door. “Greetings, Madam. Is there anything I can help you with?” As I said this I noticed her luggage was next to her, and a small bag was in her hands.

“Yes actually, I was wondering if there was enough space in there for one more.” It was obvious she wasn’t really wondering that, as one could plainly see there was more than enough. The luggage rack above the seats was empty except for my two meager bags above my seat, leaving the other side void.

I stepped back and bowed, gesturing with my hands that she was welcome to enter. “Will you need help storing your bag?” I raised my head with the question, while keeping my body bent and arms held just so. She really was gorgeous, dressed in white embroidered with gold, looking extremely proper.

“I will not, thank you. Tell me, have you ever ridden on this train before? I ride it quite frequently and have never seen you on it.”

Every time I had ridden it, I had seen her. Arm in arm with a different man each time, maybe this time I would be the man, espied and envied by the others. “I have, though not often. I am only rarely inspired enough to ride upon the Train of Thought.”

The answer seemed to suffice for her, as she gave a small nod with a smile, picked up her bag, and walked in. “You are a writer.” It was another observation of an obvious thing, the stack of papers on the bench I had been sitting on tilted with the motion of the train. I had to move quickly to make sure they didn’t scatter about the room.

“I am, and what of yourself? Your voice would be perfectly suited for that of a singer.” She laughed a musical noise, most likely in mockery of what I had said.

“I am not that, but a simple teacher.” Her eyes suddenly went wide and she let out a small “oh.” She looked into my eyes, almost sadly. “My class has arrived, I suppose it is already time for me to depart.” She, and her luggage, began to fade. She was leaving the dreamlike place that was the Train of Thought.

“Maybe I will see you again, and we can talk longer.” I could tell my words caught her before she disappeared fully as she gave a quick nod.

She had distracted me, and I found myself having wandered from the Train of Thought as well. I sit now, staring at my computer screen, fingers hovering above the keyboard, not quite knowing what keys to press.

"Damn it." I said the words only halfheartedly as I had a smile on my face and a euphoric feel, which were common feelings after having ridden the Train of Thought even for a moment.