Perhaps, I was hitchhiking along any stretch of this life, or was I on a train, sitting next to someone, who I didn’t know, but was intrigued, all the same?
She didn’t say anything. Nothing at all, but just sat there, jotting notes in a book, with the name, “Travels” on the cover. It was filled with markers of different colors, feathers which made up her peacock plume, brushing up against each other like two friends on a crowded bus.
My imagination could have taken me far, when I first laid eyes on her. We could have, or did I say, or why did her train travel in the opposite direction? Imaginations needed to be corralled, like wild horses, lest they smelled the true air of freedom once again, and bolted into the darkness.
I wanted so much. To know where she had been. Who had she known. Why did he treat her like that, or was it her, who turned away first? Again and again, I told myself. Stop before your expectations rule the day, rule the night. An air of mystery is just as exciting as knowing the truth, down and dirty, all the secrets rolled up in a tangled ball, which we would call someone’s life. Too much knowledge at one time.
Her eyes reflected in the glass. The train window being transparent for everyone else, but I. I saw her life playing out like a movie, all of her adventures, those times that she regretted, and those that she tried to relive. The best times shouldn’t only come once in life. Not only once.
She turned towards me, not smiling, nor frowning. It was as if she was reading my eyes. The stories that they told, the stories that only I knew, deep down inside. My wildest, fondest dreams. My regrets. My first love. My last as well. She just stared at me, almost undressing my soul, while she clutched her book even tighter.
Then she turned away and began to jot down notes again. I wondered if I had come into her thoughts. Into her writings. I traveled a bit farther with her, while contemplating how far I should go.
How far she wanted me to go…..
To be continued