Many years have passed since Geraldine last rode a steam train to the coast. As a tunnel’s black maw yawns she leans against the window, remembering halcyon summer days.
Ozone tickles her nostrils. harness bells tinkle on a donkey ride along golden sands. She jumps waves, dress tucked into her knickers.
The light at the end of the tunnel grows nearer.
“She’s gone,” the train’s tour guide searches for a pulse, but Geraldine’s run out of steam.