The Train Window

He was staring out of the train window, his expression distant, as though his thoughts were somewhere far beyond the platform. He looked older, but not by much. The familiar furrow between his brows remained—the same small crease that appeared when he was thinking too hard, the one she used to smooth away with her fingertips.

Emily’s fingers twitched against her coffee cup, her mind racing through the possibilities. Should she get up? Tap on the window? Wave? Call his name?

But she didn’t move. Instead, she watched him the way she used to, quietly, observing him in the way only someone who once loved him could. Her eyes traced the familiar lines of his face, the shape of his jaw, the way his lips parted slightly as though he were about to speak but never did.

And then, just for a second, as if he could feel her gaze, David turned his head.

Their eyes met.

Emily felt a warm rush of something between desire and regret crashing over her. He blinked, his expression shifting—recognition, surprise, something deeper. But before either of them could react, the announcement chimed overhead. Her train lurched forward. His remained still.

She saw his lips part, but the distance swallowed whatever words he might have been about to say. As the train pulled away, she held his gaze for as long as she could, watching as he disappeared out of sight.

Emily exhaled slowly, resting her head against the glass, her fingers still trembling slightly around her coffee.

In another life, she might have jumped off the train. In another life, she might have smiled and said hello.

But not this life.

And so she let him become a memory again, left behind on a platform in a city she would soon pass through and forget.