Riversong's Disappearance

My voice reverberates off the unseen barrier that inevitably separates us. I reach my hand out to grab her wrist. She pulls away, only to stare at me with a blank expression.
If only the train hadn't been speeding her way.

"River!"
Her melancholic expression tugs appealingly at my heart, expressing all the hopes and dreams she could never achieve. I cannot hear her answer, but her lips move slightly as she whispers her reply.
"I don't wanna go."
The train flashes past.

There are no screams, no shouts, no cries— no anything, save the fedora that waifs to the ground in a lonely fashion.
The blood splattered on the tracks seems surreal, illogical, almost.
I watched Riversong die in my past a long time ago.
That had been her future.
But it wasn't now.

The police come and go, seeing it be impossible to identify and piece her together. The lies whispered among them, murmurs of suicide, satisfies their reports. This woman, addressed as Jane Doe, had been declared dead on the scene. Quite honestly, River never existed in their records anyhow.

I reach down to observe the hat, consequently pulling a curl of blond hair from the inside rim. As if on cue, the object morphs into the familiar blue journal, the item I had given her in my future. Curiously, I flip to the back page, the only one that isn't filled with meaningless words and ink.
Her handwriting appears, dancing along the page intricately, "Ah-ah-ah."
I can almost make out her bell-like tone as I read.
"Spoilers."
My eyes rest on the last word, as the final note of her voice hangs in the air.

And, just like that, Riversong has disappeared with the wind, leaving no sign of her return.