Train Track

He didn't think, not even twitch for a second. The girl was about to fall into the train track. He couldn't think, not even flinch for a moment. The girl was at the edge. He shouldn't think, not even blink for a change. The girl was falling.

Jack entered the train with other morning workers. He struggled between briefcase to briefcase and finally stuck between a heavyset man and a well-fed elder. His bruised chest, pressing against his elbow while he held on to the railing, was aching badly.

He looked out of the train from the cracks left behind by people, and saw the girl. She waved at him, mouthing goodbye.

The girl was purely his imagination. No one, not anyone had fallen into the train track or attempted doing so for as long as he remembered at this part of the world. Why would one commit such an act, what was it for, anyway? There are million other ways to die, why the train track?

Jack didn't think. He had always thought about the girl, and her fallings. Jack didn't count. He had always seen the girl, and her fallings. Jack shouldn't stop. He had always liked the girl, and her fallings.

Just imagining the girl who was falling into the train track could get Jack excited. He had only seen things like this happened on TV. And once, just once on the newspaper. It was a beautiful girl, a young lady who wore a red dress and pink lipstick. It was the ghost copy of the girl he saw.