The Crowded Train

I never understood why Martin loved taking the train.  I preferred to ride in cars so I could stop whenever I wanted and could stretch my legs with a walk when I started to get restless.  I managed to get very restless these days and I have yet to figure out why.  Martin had insisted on this particular train ride and had even booked one of the sleeping cabins.  I was a little uneasy about sleeping on the train because I slept best in peace and quiet.  I highly doubted the clacking of the train would either be peaceful or quiet.  I had already heard a young mother soothing her newborn and had wonder about her story.  Why was she on the train with such a young child?  Was she running from someone or something?    

As the minutes and hours clacked on, I started to study the other passengers as they walked by our compartment.  When no one stopped to talk with us, I began to make up stories for each person complete with names, families and a background.  After a while, a complicated story between each passenger began to take shape.  After I had written everything down that I could, there were eight napkins full of names and history.  I might have to start taking the train more often.  Martin had become bored with my stories and glumly stared out the window.  I shockingly wasn’t feeling bad about neglecting him, but maybe I was bored with him too. 


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