Creative Non-Fiction Short Stories. :) Travel, Oldsters, Love, and Compassion.
The Nice Thing About Strangers
As usual, stops were not announced on the train. People familiar with the route rushed the hallways as we pulled into a station–or the last scraps of one. The train paused, the people fled, and the machine continued. Ages before a vague arrival time, I grew terrified that I would miss my stop. I suffered this particular anxiety on every trip. It became a typical part of what I carried on.
A woman and I shared legroom in our train compartment. We kept accidentally kicking and stomping each other, but stopped making polite apology smiles somewhere around hour two. Since this woman was able to engage in small talk with the passport control boy, I waited until he left and nerved-up to ask if she knew which stop might be Novi Sad. She blinked, pressed down a smile. This was also her destination and she pledged to take me along. …
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I liked this, I always worry about missing my stop when on a train.
It leaves me in total anxiety for the whole of the trip! Haha! Seems to take the fun out of travel, but I still love the thrill of the panic, I suppose. 🙂
You left us hanging, you brutal woman ! 🙂
Haha, M-R! I know. Sorry about that. 😉