Midnight Train

There he stood, waiting for the midnight train to arrive in just a moment. He was wearing the same gray coat he wore on the night we first went to the theater together, the night we first kissed near the end of the film. His hair was neatly combed, and he was wearing the watch I had given him on the first of August, years ago. I could not stop staring at him. He had this strange aura around him that I just could not resist. I looked at the clock hanging right above me, showing how little time I had left to see him. My eyes went down to look at him once again, and I saw his eyes turning towards mine. We had not seen each other in about a year at that time, so it was no surprise to me that he was shocked at the sight of me. His eyes widened, and his mouth slightly opened. We held this contact for a few seconds, after which the force overtook me, prompting me to walk over to him. I walked along the yellow line of the platform, past one or two lonely people. I had to be careful not to fall into an even deeper pit than the one I was about to enter. As I came closer to him, he put his hands in the pockets of his coat, and his face changed into something expressionless. I stopped about 2 feet away from him, thinking of the right words to open the conversation. Thinking clearly did not help, as the only words I could think of were "Hello, how've you been?" His eyes burned into mine, and his mouth was still shut. I had to find something else to say, so I thought of a memory we shared. I quoted a line from the film we watched together, thinking he might smile at the thought of it. "What are you doing here?" He finally spoke. I had a smile on my face, expecting one from him, but those words quickly made it disappear. "I... saw you, and... I wanted to see how you were doing." I spoke as I looked at his watch, slightly peeking out of his pocket. Time was running out; the train would arrive shortly at the station. “I’ve been fine; there’s no reason why I wouldn’t be.” I felt some sort of anger in his speech, but it had been so long since we last spoke; how could he still be mad at me? Then again, I remember the day we parted ways. He was mad at me then, shouting out any argument he had against me. “Where are you going?” I spoke. He looked at the tunnel through which the train would enter soon, wanting this conversation to end already. He turned back to me and rather vaguely said, “Out of town.” I considered several possibilities for what this could mean; maybe he was visiting his parents near the coast. Or, of course, meeting someone on a date. The second possibility felt uneasy to me. It had been so long since we went out, but somehow my feelings still lingered, and I yearned for him. Out of the dark tunnel the steamy train appeared, and I saw his face light up. He stepped closer to the yellow line, awaiting the train. The gust of wind caused by it rushing by almost made me fall against him. When the train stopped, he jumped on at once, not a second wasted. When he got on, I felt unsatisfied. I wanted to keep talking to him. In a moment of pure intuition, I got on the train as well. I was supposed to take the next train, but I couldn’t keep myself from following my heart. I walked into the coach, where he had just sat down. I sat opposite him, causing him to frown at me. He leaned forward and said, “Don’t you realize that I want nothing to do with you anymore?” Trying not to cause a scene, he didn’t yell at me this time around. “I wanted to talk to you; it’s been such a long time, and I miss our conversations.” I spoke. “What conversations? We never talked. You never had anything to say.” He answered, “Not to me at least. Remember?" He had that smirk on his face, the one I remember best. The conductor entered the coach and started clipping the tickets. My heart dropped as I realized that the ticket I bought wasn’t eligible for this train. “And now you come back, and you expect me to have forgotten about it? How crazy are you?” My heart started pounding. He leaned back in his seat and ignored me completely. The conductor walked beside him and asked for his ticket. He handed it over and the conductor clipped it. It was my turn. He asked for my ticket, and I gave him the ticket for my train, hoping he wouldn’t realize it was different. He looked at the ticket, and then looked at me. “This is for the next train, miss.” the conductor said. I looked back at my ex as he smirked in disbelief. “Are you serious? You followed me onto the train?” He spoke. The conductor asked me to get up as we arrived at the next station. I walked down onto the platform and turned around to hear what my ex had to say. “You’re better than this, I know you are.” He sighed, “Stop trying to fix something unfixable. Move on, meet someone else. I know I have.” Somehow these words felt empathic, almost as if he felt sad for me. I looked at the watch I had given him on the first of August, years ago, before he stepped back into the coach, never looking back at me. When the train left, all that was left was a void in front of me. But I wasn’t scared, sad or mad at all. I knew that the next train would come soon.