Thank You

Start your story with someone sitting on a crowded train and end it with them looking out over beautiful natural scenery.

Buzz click hum. The wirr of engines. Buzz click hum. Mobil devises. Buzz click hum. Doors sliding open. Buzz click-

Alana was quiet, head slumped on a window sill, eyes cast down, right toes tapping impatiently. Heavy coat. Hat pulled over forehead. It was dark. It was bright. It was quiet. It was loud. 

The man across Alana would say it was dark, burrowing through the tunnels at high speeds. He would say it was quiet, able to hear a pin drop in the shuddering hull of the heavy machine.

The woman next to him would disagree. It was bright, lights from overhead blaring in their eyes, the heavy clang of wheels on tracks echoing through the caves they hurtled through so easily.

The man would refute, telling the woman she was wrong. It was dark. It was quiet. It was peaceful.

The woman would look him dead in the eyes, her stunning blue gaze piercing his deep brown eyes. He would quiet down, slump his shoulders, glance away and to his left. The woman would straighten herself, look away, conflicted between emotions, pride mixing with empathy into a concoction of confusion.

Alana stirred. Straightened her back. Pressed her spine against the metal, pushing for that crunch. As she pressed herself against it, she let her arms unfurl and her legs lock. Still she pressed her back to the wall, farther and farther. She had no room to spare, pressing herself even farther into the wall.

Nothing.

She recoiled, pulling in her limbs and relaxing her back.

No crunch, no crack.

Alana let herself fall. She slid into the hard cup of the seat. Let it cradle her, hold her loose and firm. Red plastic. Silver bolts. Yellow bars and black handles. White walls. Black floors. Blue maps. Bright lights.

The train slowed. Alana felt it before she saw it, her gut pressing against her left side, a slight leaning of the hairs on her head. She let out a breath, hot air escaping into the cabin.

Ding.

“Stopping at central river station. Please mind the gap.”

The man stood. The woman followed.

“Stopping at central river station. Please mind the gap.”

The doors swung open, cool air pressing into the cabin.

“Stopping at central river station. Please mind the gap.”

They left, arm in arm, scarves pulled tightly around necks.

“Stopping at central river station. Please mind the gap.”

No one got on Alana’s car. She awaited the doors to close.

“Stopping at central river station. Please mind the gap.”

The fifth ring, the fifth ping, the fifth message played. The doors began to close. Alana hadn’t heard it at first. Just clatter. Just noise. But it was clear the second time, the third. It was a voice. A woman crying. Calling out.

“Wait!” She called.

Alana didn’t move. Didn’t twitch. Didn’t tap her toes, didn’t move her head, didn’t breathe.

“Wait!”

Her head snapped to her right, moving too fast for Alana to understand it had moved. The woman was small. Red hat, pink gloves. The doors slid farther, blocking Alana’s view. The woman was still running.

Alana’s mind slowed. What was she doing? She was running. Why? She wanted to get on the train. How? Someone needed to hold it open for her. Alana didn’t need to look to know she was the only one able to hold the door.

Only one other man was in the car. He was far from the door, head burrowed in his cellphone, mind elsewhere entirely. Alana was close. Alana could do it.

But still she hesitated. Only a second, a millisecond, a fraction of a millisecond. Before her hand shot for the poll.

It held fast, her grip tight. She yanked her arm back, propelling herself forward. She lurched ahead, catching herself moments before slamming her head into the poll with her left leg. She straightened it, lifting the rest of her upwards. Her right arm, hand still gripped to the poll behind her, locked her elbow forward, propelling her forwards and towards the door.

Her hand released the yellow poll. Her other arm, already in front of her, shot for the closing doors. She slipped forward, lurching over, a moment of perpetual tripping. But her right leg caught her, stopping her momentum with such force she bounced, her hair lifting in the air. She held her arm against the rim of the closing doors, pushing ever so slightly to her right, against the force of the door.

It stopped, momentarily wondering what to do, before sliding open. Alana had done it. She let a breath escape her lips, straightening up and stepping away from the door. 

The woman, her name Christine, leapt over the gap between her and the train. The gap that the speakers had so carefully told her to mind. She too released her breath, catching it in the aura of the the moving waiting room. And then the doors closed. The train began to chug, pushing slowly at first through the tunnels. Christine sat down, the chair that had once belonged to the man who thought the train was quiet and dark.

Christine, if asked, would agree with the man. She would say the room was dark, hidden away underground. She would say it was quiet, tucked beneath the loud city.

Alana had brought herself back to her seat, slumping over once again. She was ready to close her eyes, to let her mind wander, when the woman across from her surprised her.

“Thank you.” She said.

Alana was caught off guard. Her mind drew a blank, unsure how to respond. Thank you. Words so rare she had forgotten they held meaning. The words requested a response Alana did not know how to give. She felt as if she were taking a test she had not studied for.

The woman was waiting.

“Uh,” Alana thought aloud. “Um, you’re welcome.” She said this quickly, the words tumbling off her tongue.

Alana thought hard through the silence. The woman had needed help, and Alana gave it to her. She could have easily ignored the woman, let the doors close, continued her long wait. But she didn’t.

She didn’t know what she had been expecting, but she didn’t expect thanks. No, she didn’t say thanks. Not the casual “thanks” you can throw to a stranger. Thank you. Real words. Words of gratitude meant only for Alana.

Alana laughed (in her head, of course) as she thought. It was sad, almost, that a simple thank you caught her so surprised. 

Christine settled in, letting her bag drop between her knees, removing her red hat and pink gloves, pressing her face against the window. She saw a bright light approaching the train. She had time to brace herself, prepare her eyes for it. Alana did not.

Alana’s eyes stung with the shock. It was then she knew the train before was dark, for if it were bright, this brightness wouldn’t be so startling.

Trees wizzed past her eyes as they adjusted. She blinked a few times, rubbed her face. Past the thick glass lay the whole world, waiting for Alana. Tall every greens scattered among lumbering giants of the forest. Their leaves shown bright green, pink flowers blossoming on the ends of their spiny tendrils.

“I wonder how they do it.” Christine said, marveling at the bright outdoors.

“What?” Alana asked absentmindedly, letting her subconscious take over as she stared out the windows.

“The trees. It’s so cold and numb, but still they bloom right on scedual, just like when I was a kid.”

“I don’t know.” Alana replied. “Maybe it’s just memory. They know when it’s time to come out, even if the seasons shifted around them.”

“Maybe.” Christine wandered off into her own thoughts, eyes still glued to the window.

“Years of evolution can’t be undone in one decade.” It was the man in the back of the car, eyes pryed away from his phone, staring too out into at the world. “No matter how hard it hurts them, they won’t give up.”

Alana never took her eyes away from the window. She watched the trees, tall and blooming, full of the life they should be saving for later. She thought about the tree, and what they were thinking. What they were thinking as they wondered why their roots were still covered in a blanket of snow. Wondering why it was still blistering hot when they shed their leaves. Wondering why they’re dying.

Ding.

“Stopping at little lake station. Please mind the gap.”

Alana stood.

“Stopping at little lake station. Please mind the gap.”

She stepped towards the sliding doors.

“Stopping at little lake station. Please mind the gap.”

“Goodbye.” She said to the woman named Christine.

“Goodbye.” She replied.