a Train Journey

A Train Journey 

       Keep calm. You’re doing okay. Just keep walking. I kept on making my way through the never-ending train corridor, being fully aware to maintain a constant rate of deep breaths, as painful as it was to do so. The inaudible chattering, the squeaking sound of the tired wheels supporting my suitcase, and the train’s horn gesturing everybody to board unto the vehicle. All of these jumbled up in my mind. I blinked tightly, placing my hand upon my head. Am I? Am I really? It's not too late to go back, it’s not too late to change my mind. As much as I wanted to stop, to let the paralysis take over, I kept on going. What am I doing? 

“546… 546.” I mumbled under my breath, quickly glancing at the numbers written upon the seats, as well at the passengers, some meeting my eyes others being too busy with their companions. “546!” I made a sharp turn, sinking into the seat as my suitcase ‘found’ its spot on the floor next to me. My hands heavily placed themselves on the rough cushions, gradually feeling lighter and lighter. I hung my head back against as I shut my eyelids, the air finding its way easily though my nostrils and filling my lungs. My entire body felt numbed with comfort, I couldn’t remember when was the last time my lungs had acquired this happiness.

I need this. I am doing the right thing. He couldn’t care less. No, he shouldn’t even have a say in it, even. The only words that came to mind, echoing louder and louder. I slowly opened my eyes, turning my head to the side. A window-seat. That’s the first good sign. People were hugging goodbye, sad smiles spread across their lips, slowly stepping away and waving once the train horn signalled everyone to get on. I wonder how many of them are actually attached to each other. None of their eyes show such connection. But at least they’re having a heart-warming moment together, I guess. Even if it’s just for show.  

A particular figure walking through the crowd caught my attention. It couldn’t be him. No way in hell. He wore the same discoloured loose jeans that he had for the last twenty years, topped with a black sweater, black hair, lazy walk. He was walking closer and closer to my window. I sank into the seat, as much as I could until I felt like I camouflaged as the seat. I closed the curtain enough to save me from being seen. 

I looked at the brown, ripped chair in front of me. It was obvious that people made up for the unmaintained state of the chairs with their ‘Artistic’ drawings and scribbles. Near the upper right corner, there was a heart, surrounded with the letters ‘R’ and ‘J’ on the two sides. I slightly scoffed. My eyes shifted towards the smiley face drawn in the middle of the chair, with the writing ‘Enjoy your ride!’ beneath it. The corner of my lips curved upwards. Farther beneath it, there was a poor drawing of a house. Everything was included, be it a chimney, a fence, and three people in front of it: A Father, a mother, and a little girl between them. My glance immediately shifted to the suitcase thrown on the ground next to me. My chest, it began to hurt, the beating of my heart was suddenly focused on hurting it. Again, and again, with might and rapidness. I looked back at the drawing, and kept staring at it. I began to render my breathing constant again, but it was as successful as my plan to stay at home.  I. Am. Doing. The. Right. Thing.  

Through the small opening that wasn't covered by the grey curtain, I spotted the same man passing by. Gently pulling back the fabric, I examined his right arm, or at least what the sweater allowed me to see from it. I was waiting for one cue, just one specific cue. And there I got it. His fingers moved. It wasn’t an artificial arm. Unless he suddenly bought the really fancy artificial arm overnight, which didn’t seem to be the case. He never cared enough to spend his money in that way, not when he was able to manage his way through the simplest means.  

I extended my hand to the bag’s zipper, slowly widening the opening, inserting my hand in. Stop trembling. Guilty people tremble. I felt the texture of the envelope within the bag, the envelope to my way for a better life. I gripped it tighter, as if I was unloading the burden that laid on my shoulders into the thin, folded paper. The chunk of money was still in there, all that I needed. Not family, not home, nothing. Just support, and what was better than financial support?  

The train shook me away from my thoughts, slowly beginning to drive, accelerating with each second. My eyes froze at the moving art beyond the layer of glass. I didn’t know what it was exactly, but there was something satisfying about watching the scenes of open prairie racing from the window. Maybe it was the aesthetic that it provided that you couldn’t find anywhere else, especially from humans. Or maybe it was the life that it gave birth to as it raced, compelling you to race with it, to seize everything all at once, and to quit from remaining in one spot all the time. The green fields somewhat mixing with the light blue sky did wonders, as spots of colors created by the by-standing farm animals and white clouds added the final touch, The sound of the loud engine filling my ears, and the visuals of the giant, lively trees and landscape seemingly disappearing into a void behind me, just perfectly fit each other. I propped my forehead against the cold, spotted glass, resisting shutting my eyes, no matter how heavy my eyelids felt. Finally. I am doing the right thing.