Night Train

I wait alone on the platform.

I have no luggage. Everyone always said I would not need any. All I have in addition to the clothes on my back is a large coin in one hand. It had been in my mouth when I awoke. It’s the size of my palm and looks like painted iron. Pomegranates are depicted on one side and glyphs I cannot read on the other.

My ebony curls hang loose and almost to my thick waist. My hair is tamer now than it ever was during the time I was alive.

The platform is glass, and each of my steps were careful. The spiky heels my brother chose for me look like they could crack the floor real easy.

Only, I don’t see anything but pale grey below. It looks to have the texture and consistency of smoke, but calling it smoke sounds wrong.

I look up from the shifting grey and catch my translucent reflection on the wall across from the tracks.

My charcoal eyes are no longer ringed with dark moons. My skin is deep copper, and I don’t see any of the injuries I should have from the accident. I’m wearing a red dress that falls to my knees and shows my broad shoulders.

The dress I’d always been too self-conscious to wear.

Of course Bodi had me dressed in this one.

I’m not sure how long I’m standing there before the train arrives. It stops in front of me without a sound, the doors opening.

I take a breath and step in, met by someone that looks more skeleton than flesh.

“Payment,” the person rasps, holding out a bony hand.

I drop the coin, and the person vanishes, doors closing.

Instead of sitting, I hold onto one of the frosted glass rails.

I left my ‘before’ life sitting down. I want to meet the ‘after’ one standing with my shoulders square and chin up.

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