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January 2, 2011

The drivers idle their cars beside the station in the dark. They await the whistle and the rolling suitcases and exchange tired hugs with travelers they collect.

He used to hug her half-heartedly, when she rode back and forth to Sacramento, before their plans derailed. If he’d known how easily she’d slip away, he might have met her trainside, taken her suitcase for her.

Sometimes, he still parks, walks past the drivers to the platform, and stands there as the train pulls in. He wonders if he just missed her, or if maybe she’ll finally come home.

2 comments

  1. #Doublethumbs this one.


  2. Thanks, Chris.



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