Creative Non-Fiction Short Stories. :) Travel, Oldsters, Love, and Compassion.
His mother always started up a conversation with the other people on the train. She was like an old bird dog just unpenned that raced, sniffing up every rock and stick and sucking in the air around everything she stopped at. There wasn’t a person she hadn’t spoken to by the time they were ready to get off. She remembered them too. Long years after, she would say she wondered where the lady was who was going to Fort West, or she wondered if the man who was selling Bibles had ever gotten his wife out the hospital.
–Flannery O’Connor. “The Train.” The Collected Stories.
(Hello to Harisa, Rudy, Renate. Just a few lovely people I’ve met in various airplanes.)