The Midnight Train

They met on a beautiful night. It was raining; people were running with umbrellas and books over their heads. They just stopped, still, eyes open. Time swarmed around them thicker than the rainwater. The city line lit like candles in a dark room; hovering, flickering. After some hesitation he swore to himself he’d never leave her side.

She tightened her scarf and started to walk into the rain, it clutched around her ankles, got in her eyes. The train station was dry, but cold. He asked who she was, she said she was alone and hated the night. Under the bright lights her hair shone red, she moved to the shadows. Beautiful.

He watched her train leave at 11 o clock. The rain stopped and he forgot everything. He couldn’t move his feet and the wind blew his raincoat open. His heart was cold, alone. A memory. He’d heard of things like this happening, he was living. He opened the letter from his pocket that told him she missed him.

Waiting alone by the river, she wiped her eyes. Looking forward, she made plans in her head, promises. The city was empty; all the people that mattered were gone. Taxis deleted, empty air, invisible water. The music made her want to cry, it wasn’t there. Everything was confused, helpless. And then, eyes open. Breath, close, a hand around her waist.

They danced in the darkness to the tune of what was left. A broken beauty, a damaged vessel. He kissed her hand, then fell into dust. He was already on the midnight train, in love.