The warmth of the sun beat down on her face. She heard the low, muffled horn of the train sound-off.
"Landsdown," poured over the loudspeaker.
She kept her eyes closed. The back of her eyelids were the perfect canvas for her imagination. Thick, van-goghy swirls of dark greys and browns soon morphed into something that quite resembeled a face. Blurry at first, the face approached her and soon became a person she knew. And not just any person she knew, but a boy she knew.
"Gladstone Station."
The door to her train cart swung wildly open and made a starteling noise, not unlike its usual intrusion.
Realizing she had fallen asleep for just enough time to see him again, her eyes opened. She noticed the sun settleing comfortably behind a cloud.
Her stop is "Swarthmore." Just three stops away.
A tiny part of her, the part of her she keeps secret, hopes he'll be there to pick her up.
Well done. As I finished reading, I found myself closing my eyes as I sat on the beach, imagining the face of someone I wish to see dearly - just one last time.
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