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Fiction Short Story

Liz Inskip-Paulk

We Have Found Each Other

We have found each other. Quite a feat considering the huge mass of humanity on the railway station platforms. Rush hour on a Wednesday at St. Pancras. The immense iron roofs stretching over our heads hundreds of feet up, wrought iron curving from one platform to another. Generations of families and lovers having met in this exact same place since Queen Victoria and Prince Albert got married.

We have found each other. Each time we leave, a worry always crosses my thought that perhaps this was it. That you will not return. That we will not be reunited once more. I am filled with horror at such a conclusion, my heart is filled with ice at the mere thought. But surely, if I pray hard or meditate or do all the right things, you will return.

You have so far for the past ten years. Reliable. Dependable. Beautiful. "Well put together," as my granny would say. You stand out in the crowd. Pure unadulterated beauty. Classical style.

And always on time. Never late. I don't know how you do it. The gods must be smiling over us and over our relationship, let me tell you. So many people have lovers and families who are as fickle as the wind. They change each other with the frequency of their library books. But not you and I. You and I are above that. Beyond that.

Each day I get up, with the anticipation of seeing you. Each night I go to bed, satiated with having been with you. Our love is beyond definition. People don't believe me, don't understand me when I try to describe the depth, the purity of how I see you. They just don't understand.

I think it's because you are a train.