Prompt: (iPod on shuffle) Oh La La – Small Faces
Word count: 567
Train journeys are great, aren’t they? They’re a brilliant time to reflect on things as you head into the unknown and the new, or as you crawl back home, battered and destroyed from life.
We go home to repair. It’s always described as a relief to get home.
So, I reflect. Or rather I plug in my headphones, curl up on the empty seat next to me and using my rucksack as a pillow, I try to sleep. I try to block out the feelings of failure, the thoughts of rejection. I look up at the yellow overhead lights, the grey seats, the darkened windows with the occasional light from outside flashing past. We’re passing through the countryside – I’ll know soon enough when we get close to the city because that’s when the lights get brighter, more frequent. Some might say ‘more intrusive’ but not me. I can’t sleep if it’s too peaceful. I need the roar of a distant motorway and streetlights streaming in through my window to sooth me to sleep. She always hated that.
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