I sat motionless on the bench. To my left sat a middle-aged man with a suitcase, smoking a cigarette. He seemed overly occupied with his hands, rapidly twiddling his thumbs. To my right, I had settled my luggage; a large suitcase and a guitar in its case. All around me were people talking on phones, parents holding their children close, those listening to music, and others like myself: completely indifferent to the environment surrounding me.
I was not concerned with those walking around, waiting for the next train. They had meetings to attend, deadlines to meet, or parties to go to, but not I. For me, the trains going by gave me a soothing sense, calming my nerves, supplementing the thought to my mind. I could sit on the bench all day and halfway through the night and still be early to the next venue. Time was not the issue in my career. Lately though, this career has seemed to be more of a job.
Every night is a different bar or cheap eatery. The cities are all alike, as in they never come to be recognized and further plague my emotions. Every day I become more and more agitated, moving from town to town in an endless wake. The towering buildings envelop me in their dark shadows. All the strangers walk along the streets with swift strides and heads down, unwilling to offer to talk or give any of their time to me.
I am lost; utterly hopeless. The next train came up to the stop, brakes creaking harshly. The man next to me hopped up and boarded the train, probably going home after a long day at work. Home…when was the last time I had boarded the train to go home? The memories seemed to come over me like a cool breeze, renewing my senses and refreshing my being. I could feel the warm draft of an oven and smell the baking of a crisp apple pie. Then I listened for the sound of my love sprinting to the door to embrace me and tell me how much she missed me. There was no sound, except for the silence that disturbed the peace. I saw my love sitting at a table waiting for me, unmoving, placidly staring at the opposite wall.
At that moment I felt the wind of a passing train and the screaming of the brakes of another. I felt completely disconnected from the world I once knew so well. The crushing pain of despair was ruthless. It pounded me into the ground and fused me to the concrete floor. Home was the answer but was not on the list of possible choices. Being so far away, this was not possible. All hope was lost. Returning home would take too much time and besides, the budget would never cover such a journey.
On the other side of the station a clock chimed twelve o’clock. It was time to go to the next venue: a small, rundown diner. The next train pulled into the station and came to a screeching halt. As I boarded, I could see in the willowing wisp of steam and smoke a specter of a slender, womanly figure. It simply stared off past my shoulder. I attempted to wave but found my arm to be weighed down with the deep sorrow of the moment. It smiled in order to comfort me, lifting me slightly. There was still hope. I just had to be patient and wait my turn to go home.
