We stop again; I look out the window. Sheep, hills, and more sheep. No station in sight. I assume we are waiting for another train to pass, but the only thing that passes is time. No announcements, no staff to ask what is happening. Just silent tracks, and sheep, and hills.
Apparently time flies past when you’re the driver of a train. But I’m just a passenger, so that obviously doesn’t apply.
I look around. Strangers smile uneasily at each other when eyes meet, but never exchange words.
Returning to my book, I continue my journey. Who needs a train?
Apparently time flies past when you’re the driver of a train. But I’m just a passenger, so that obviously doesn’t apply.
I look around. Strangers smile uneasily at each other when eyes meet, but never exchange words.
Returning to my book, I continue my journey. Who needs a train?
