The Train

The car seems slower for its emptiness. Two seats up and across the aisle, a man sitting alone turns to ask, “Is this the train to Trenton?” to which I reply, “Yes,” in a voice cultivated through service work, warm and high, the inflection a kind of apology for the knowledge that separates us. He faces forward again, comforted less by me than by his renewed memory of the sum total of life’s small victories, other crossroads so preternaturally navigated.

Photography by Chris Chapman



  1. Charming with deep thoughts..

    Comment by Neerja — October 26, 2010 @ 9:04 am

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