She gazed at the evening sky, its rosy hues adorning the grey cityscape below. Such a contrast, she mused as she sat on the window ledge and sipped her glass of wine. This was definitely her favourite time of day. The busyness and demands of the office were behind her and she could unwind in the solitary stillness of her small flat. Some would call the place poky, a little bit dowdy, but it had one big advantage in her eyes – the amazing view out over the city from the large sash window in the kitchen. It was her place of meditation, of daydreaming, of escaping the ordinary, ordered life she had created. Best of all, she had a clear view down to the Rosebank line.
Far from being an intrusion, she found the constant stream of trains fascinating. Crawling along as they left the station, she could see right in, observing the occupants, even fantasising about the amazing lives they led. The 5:43 came along, with the woman who always talked on her phone - she was actually a doctor saving lives with her latest research. The man on the 6:03 who stared out the window was a space scientist, discovering frontiers beyond this world. And the person behind the newspaper on the 6:14 was actually a clever foreign agent.
Recently, one passenger in particular had caught her eye. Not-Average Joe, as she called him, was different from the other passengers. He looked up, he talked to those near him, he even laughed. Just to see him made her day better. As the sky deepened its display of colour and 6:38 approached, she found herself applying a little lipstick and checking her hair. After all, Not-Average Joe had looked up at her several times now, even waved last Thursday. Just a few more moments to wait . . . the train appeared. Scanning the carriages, she searched the faces for him. One carriage passed, now two then three. He was nowhere to be seen. Her heart sank – this couldn’t be. Where was he? She closed her eyes and leaned against the window frame.
Time to stop dreaming. She had surely imagined it, for life was not really like that. Glancing out the window one final time, she noticed movement in the gathering dusk. A man emerging into the streetlight below. Not-Average Joe, flowers at the ready, smiling up at her.
Rachael Hawkey
Far from being an intrusion, she found the constant stream of trains fascinating. Crawling along as they left the station, she could see right in, observing the occupants, even fantasising about the amazing lives they led. The 5:43 came along, with the woman who always talked on her phone - she was actually a doctor saving lives with her latest research. The man on the 6:03 who stared out the window was a space scientist, discovering frontiers beyond this world. And the person behind the newspaper on the 6:14 was actually a clever foreign agent.
Recently, one passenger in particular had caught her eye. Not-Average Joe, as she called him, was different from the other passengers. He looked up, he talked to those near him, he even laughed. Just to see him made her day better. As the sky deepened its display of colour and 6:38 approached, she found herself applying a little lipstick and checking her hair. After all, Not-Average Joe had looked up at her several times now, even waved last Thursday. Just a few more moments to wait . . . the train appeared. Scanning the carriages, she searched the faces for him. One carriage passed, now two then three. He was nowhere to be seen. Her heart sank – this couldn’t be. Where was he? She closed her eyes and leaned against the window frame.
Time to stop dreaming. She had surely imagined it, for life was not really like that. Glancing out the window one final time, she noticed movement in the gathering dusk. A man emerging into the streetlight below. Not-Average Joe, flowers at the ready, smiling up at her.
Rachael Hawkey
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