by Alan Osmundson

The landscape passed him in an incomprehensible blur. It fascinated him, how if he focused his eyes in a certain manner, he could tell what he was passing, and how if not, it all merged into a single swath of colors.

His fixation was broken as the train passed over a stone lying on the track, causing a mild but noticeable jolt. As he tore his gaze from the window he saw a woman sitting across him whom he had not noticed before. Her eyes pointed down into a book that appeared to be a fantasy novel. He observed her for some time as she read, an occasional smile rising to her lips, a subtle smile that wasn’t distracting, but just nice enough to brighten anyone’s day.

Then, as if by some act of extra-sensory perception, she looked up at him as he stared back and gave him that same smile, as well as an inaudible laugh. He attempted to reciprocate, but was unable to muster more than an unsightly grimace before she became absorbed by her book once more.

Disappointed, he turned back to the window and let the colors pass by again.

After some time, her voice tore his eyes from the window.

“Where are you headed towards?”

He blinked before replying.

“Oh, I’m… heading to Lancaster… to see my mother.”

“That’s sweet of you! Any particular occasion?”

He couldn’t help but notice how beautiful she looked, her face illuminated by the white light coming in through the window. A foolish grin attempted to breach his stony composure, but he suppressed it with some effort.

“You remind me of someone,” he said.

She raised an eyebrow and cocked her head ever so slightly.

“Oh…?”

“Yes, you… actually, never mind that. Never mind that.”

She righted her perfect head and let out a small bubbly laugh as she closed her book and stowed it under her seat. They both turned their heads to the window.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she said, without turning from the portal, “I love the countryside this time of year. So green… It’s all very peaceful, no?”

He focused his eyes and scrutinized the surrounding land. “Too overgrown for my taste,” he said, “I prefer it in the city.”

“It’s nature. How can it be overgrown?” She turned to him. “And cities are much worse than overgrown. They’ve just been getting filthier and filthier these days!”

“Yes, that’s right, I suppose.”

They turned to the window again, she, taking in the glow of nature’s beauty, and he, letting his eyes defocus, turning it all into a stroke of sickly green.

After a few long minutes of the like, he turned to her.

“You remind me of my wife. That’s who.”

“Do I?”

“Yes, you look much alike… you think much alike, too.”

She laughed. “Well I ought to meet her some time then!”

“You really ought to… but see, she’s moved to California.”

“Really? What for?”

He turned to the window again, examining the weeds along the track. “To be with her family. See, she left me, that’s it.”

She rose a hand to her mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry–”

“Don’t. It was my fault. She said I wasn’t giving her the attention she needed… that I was passing her by… that she may as well be a stranger. So she left me. I don’t blame her.”

“Mister–”

“Then that got me down. Started drinking. More than I should’ve. Started to get lazy. Started letting everything else pass me by. I got fired and didn’t even bother finding a new job.” She began to blur in his vision. “Now I’m broke. That’s why I’m going to my mother. Can’t live by my own damn self.”

She reached over with her handkerchief and wiped the tears away so that he could see clearly again. He looked at her and felt that she was even more beautiful, with her bright blue eyes, her flowing dark hair, her delicate hands.

“I’m really sorry for bringing this up, mister. But all I can say is… well, it’ll get better. It will. Believe me.”

Their eyes met for a while, then she pulled out her book again and resumed her perusal, and he saw that it was in fact a biography, not a fantasy as he had originally thought. He looked out the window into the white light and focused his eyes. He saw the rolling green hills and the happy cows and the dazzling blue sky with its weightless fluffy clouds.

And he knew she was right. And he was at peace.