Passing Trains

She was about a hundred yards from the subway station when she saw him. Brown, shaggy hair and a strong but tamed beard. He was setting his backpack on the ground as he circled down to take a cross-legged seat on the sidewalk. Their eyes met briefly as she walked by. She was wearing a floral print dress, a fedora and cowboy boots and she was carrying her grandmother’s wooden suitcase inside of which was penciled the date 1947. She looked happy. Travelling made her happy. Subways in particular made her feel free and independent and brave and strong. She loved sitting near the door on a train, studying the little maps with the criss-crossing colored lines and station names notated by black dots along the route. She thought that he must have been travelling. He could have been homeless. He was most definitely homeless, but he looked happy about it. A few steps after she passed him she kneeled down, put her suitcase on the ground and opened it up. She was rustling around toward the bottom looking for her wallet when he walked up behind her, “Excuse me, are you looking for a partner?” She swiveled at the knee and looked up to see his friendly eyes looking at her. “Like a partner in life?” she questioned. “A partner in anything.” There was only five minutes until the next subway train that would get her to the airport with barely enough time to run to catch the shuttle bus home. She looked in his eyes earnestly, “I’m on my way home right now to Big Sur. Are you travelling? I want to give you some money.” He was surprised. She was holding all the cash she had found in her wallet, eleven dollars, then she moved it toward his hand. “Blessings on your journey.” He kneeled down next to her and smiled. “You are very beautiful. My name’s Mark. I’m from Washington.” “I’m Annie, I live in Big Sur. I’m going there now.” They stayed low on the sidewalk staring into each other’s eyes, smiling, crowds rushing by them to get to the subway. He glanced at her hair, “Want some sweet love?” She giggled. “I know how to do my times tables and everything.” he added. “I have to go.” She walked a few paces backward holding her hand over her heart. She turned and ran down the stairs and caught the next train home.

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About audreyryan

semi-pro rogue theatre critic
This entry was posted in my partially fictionalized life, travel and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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