Etchings and Scribbles

The train coasted along, silently passing by the fields, the trees. Occasionally some wildlife would pop up in the distance, see the mass of metal moving, and turn tail back to its burrow. That’s how the man felt all too often. Life had a way of inserting itself when least wanted, forcing itself into your cozy nook and up-heaving everything in its path. The man was reminiscing on how he had just settled into some kind of normality before life came along. The ripples of its passing left his daughter, Nicole, with a tumor. Something uterine, if he was remembering correctly. He remembered thinking she was too young to be dealing with all of this, too young to be having surgery, too young to be left infertile the rest of her life. Truthfully he hadn’t wanted to come. He felt like he hadn’t been there for most of her life, and as such wasn’t entitled to be there for her difficult moments. Deep down, he knew that it would have been easier to stay at home, sit and wonder, but never have...

The man opened his eyes, startled. The train tracks clicked and clacked below him, the carriage rocking back and forth gently over ancient warps in the wrought iron they rode above. It was no wonder he dozed off. He glanced absently at his watch and distantly registered the time, or rather, his lack thereof. “Can’t believe I’m gonna be late.. This always happens, I have something important to do and life finds a way to mess it up. Maybe traffic will be merciful and I’ll get there on the dot…” he mumbled to himself. He heard a rustling and glanced up to see a stranger sitting across from him quickly raise his newspaper back in front of his face, but not quick enough. He saw the raised eyebrow, the attempt to return to normalcy after gawping at him, the awkward clearing of his throat to try and seem innocuous. He shook his head, he’d never much liked people, they had a habit of disappointing. All of them except his sweetheart, Laura. She had a smile like a patch of sunflowers and w...