Most times I waited for the train, she was there, whatever time of day it was. White wires to white player = apple world. She never arrived without these wires, nor a method to become de-tangled.
We never spoke to each other. No hellos or fine weather predictions. She was my totem. Days she wasn’t there felt strange and out of place.
Yet, we had made little or no contact. No thank you for the stable sense of having her there at the train stop. I kept meaning to say hello, or comment about the weather. But the distance she kept from me and the other passengers seemed to be a fortress she built around herself.
One harried afternoon, as I waited for the train, I heard a voice: Miss, Miss. It took me a moment to realize the miss was me. I turned and to my surprise it was…
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