That Time at a Train Station.

I arrived earlier than expected. My eyes surveyed the area to see if the friend I was meeting was already here, but of course, he was not. A silent sigh left me as I grabbed my belongings and got out of the car. After taking a few steps, I admired the clear skies and all the stars that rested in their place–burning brightly as they glowed for no one but themselves.

The night’s ambiance gave a new face to the familiar train station that laid before me.There was not a single person at this hour. The vacant parking lot and empty platform was something I was used to. It’s strange, I never come here for the purpose of boarding, but only to watch the unstoppable trains race through its rails. I leaned back against my car, took out a pack of cigarettes, and slid one to the edge of my lips. In one quick motion, I sparked a flame and lit it. The smoke teemed my mouth and slowly escaped through my nostrils. As the smoke traveled into the air, so did my eyes, watching as it eventually vanished into the night sky. I closed my eyes and stood there for a long time–how long I couldn’t say. My worries and pain washed over me and rendered my mind powerless. It was in this place, at this precise moment, that I have given myself up to the flow of time. Time that enveloped both past and present–a place where it no longer existed–where dreams would spill into reality.

Everything stopped abruptly at the sound of a car that parked next to mine. The car had a nice clean black to it. I couldn’t help but to admire its luster. Out from it, arose the long-awaited friend that I had planned to meet. It was him who called me out here. Which was odd, because it was unlike him to do so. His face was stoic as always, but this time his eyes looked hollow as it met mine.

“Steve, What’s going on? How come you called me out here at this time? Are you okay?”

He took a moment to gather himself before speaking. His head faced parallel to the ground as I silently watched. Slowly, Steve also took out a cigarette and brought it to his lips. There was something different–something that was not quite right. Finally, he lifted his face and let out a heavy sigh and with it, a cloud of smoke.

“Kyle, I want to kill myself…”

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