On the train seat,at the left edge,only one of a pairlies there as it was.In the opposite window,a shadow of a face.
A woman has opened a book.She presses a page cornerwith one finger.She does not noticethe single thing beside her.
The station namemoves slowly.Lines of rain on the door window.My bag shiftsagainst my knees.
The person across from herpicks it upand lays it softlynear the door.Wind enters the shadow of the rail.
The woman gets offat the next station.The book is on her knees.Her eyes rest on the lone thing,and her mouth opens a little.
The door opens.Wind comes in.The one thingreturns into her hand.People look only forward;only the hanging straps move.