The Girl on the Train
The Girl on the Train the girl on the train stories
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scoutofnorway
scoutofnorway It is I. I, whomever. Who are you?
Autoplay OFF   •   2 years ago
The Girl on the Train She sat there, the girl. Looking out the window. She had been sitting there a while now, watching the landscape pass by; trees, rocks, grass, sheep, houses, roads.

The Girl on the Train

She sat there, the girl. Looking out the window. She had been sitting there a while now, watching the landscape pass by; trees, rocks, grass, sheep, houses, roads.

It all passed by, all in few seconds. What are seconds, really? Measurements of an undecipherable entity? The girl had no such thought. She merely watched. Smiled.

What is a smile? A twitch of lips, a wrinkle, a glint in an eye? The girl smiled.

A dog barked outside the window. No sound. A picture. The girl looked at the dog. Her eyes were soft, then. The dog passed by.

It rained. Water fell against the window, drops, soon drawn away by the wind. The train creaked, moved, it followed the slight turns and the straight lines. It shook too, slightly.

The girl saw a fence, some trees, water. Power lines, train tracks, unevenly broken rocks.

No one waits for erosion. There is no time to wait, for time is precious, it runs through fingers like finely ground wheat, gone, gone.

The girl sighed softly, ever so softly. Stretched. Something made a cracking noise. A human is not meant to sit still, it is meant to move, to walk. To run. The girl settled back down.

Looked out the window.

The train slowed down. Stopped. The girl looked out the window, searched. She smiled. A warm smile. Warmer.

The girl left the train.

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