For a long while, I waited at the station. I had my things with me, and I was always ahead of schedule.
Each day I double, no, triple-checked my schedule to make sure a train hadn’t suddenly decided to board and leave early.
But after a few years, I realize it’s not going to stop for me. It slows occasionally, but it doesn’t stop.
I wonder, if I stand close enough to the ledge, can I catch onto one of the car’s railings and hoist myself into a vacant one?
It’s a thought I’ve mulled over for a good while, but never have had the courage to pursue. There’s a risk of losing grip and slipping under but the plot twist is this:
I’ve never been sure where the train is headed. And I wonder if another part of me is more scared of the uncertainty of that than the certainty of what comes after falling onto the tracks.