The Train Station, 4:30 a.m.

I wrote and sent this to one of my best friends early in the morning as I was waiting for a train to take me to the airport. I enjoy doing small pieces like these, reflections on reality through my point of view.

At four thirty in the morning, Malmö Central is nothing at all like what it is in the greyness of day. It’s a serene spot, empty of all life, devoid of the crowds that assail it in waves during the day, flittering back and forth. Not a single human in sight. Not even a bone!

That is, until the passengers of city bus number 4 dismount their creaking, mechanical mount and step inside. They shuffle inside like a crowd of mildly peckish zomboids. They devour the silence. The crunch of leather, the rhythmic pat, pat, pat of steps against the shiny floor tiles, the hushed groans of those who know each other in this abysmal hour. It continues, but only for a short while, only until you reach the escalators, where all comes to a halt, you and your suitcase in tow, both of you staring at the sliding door. There’s plenty to stare at – it’s made of glass, only a huge chunk of it is missing. Someone’s come up with an elegant solution to the problem — duct tape, in ludicrous quantities. As if someone tried to mumify the door after seeing Tutenstein a few times too many. It’s ludicrous, and it works, and that’s ludicrous too, and I love it.

Then you step past the door — it still works, it slides open for you, what magic is this?! — and you accept that the next time you see it, it will most likely be sporting a new sheen of glass. Everything interesting about it gone without so much as a screech of protest. You say your goodbyes, the thought that a picture might come in handy later never even having crossed your mind.

You hope the maintenance guy gets a cut for ruining it.

And then, at last, you see it, and all your dislike for your fellow man, striding the earth as early as you yourself do, dies away. That infernal desire machine, that glistening titan of industry. The train that will take you home*.

Charlie the Choo-Choo, illustrated for Stephen King’s…children’s book…? (Dark Tower fans will know!)

*in my case, the train that will take me to the airport that will allow me to board one plane that will fly me to another airport in which another plane, if I be lucky, will await. Thanks for being witness to my crimes against writing!

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