Dream (2/6)

2.

Frantic phonetics. The train. Swishing lights back and forth, flickering over my eyes. The lights so bright that I have to look away. Tears. Not mine. Outside is dark, and when I look through the window I see myself and the empty seat next to me. I lock eyes with my reflection, searching my face for meaning. If I close my eyes it still feels like you’re there. The train passes another flickering town, judders to a stop, and I file out, dazed.

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