The Girl in the Window Seat

The train pulled away from another station, gathering speed and momentum as it went. The girl in the window station stared desperately out at the countryside speeding past, as though by looking at it hard enough she could hold onto it, and stop the relentless progress of the train.

Amongst the rows of black suits and briefcases, the dress she wore was too bright, to vibrant. The turquoise material was loose, floating over her slender curves and drawing the eye to long, elegant legs. She shifted slightly in her seat, eyes still gripped to the landscape outside, and as she moved, her dark hair fell out of the loose bun at the back of her neck to cascade down her neck in a tumble of loose curls.

The train began to slow again as it approached another station, and her movements became more agitated, more anxious. She rummaged in her handbag angrily to pull out another hairband, and pulled her hair back into a tight bun at the back of her neck. The hairstyle was too tight, too severe for the soft contours of her face, and left her looking vulnerable, exposed.

The train drew to a shuddering halt, the name of the station ringing out over the loudspeaker. The girl closed her eyes, just slightly, and exhaled slowly. As she breathed, her lips pursed just slightly, dark against the pale skin of her face. Around her, other passengers moved on and off the train, but she remained, eyes shut, breathing slowly in and out.

As the train began to move again, her eyes snapped open again. She flicked one wrist round to glance at the watch hanging there, and groaned slightly when she saw the time. She bit one dark lip, just slightly, her face anxious.

The loudspeaker boomed out again down the carriage, and she jumped slightly, then blushed, and glanced around to see who watched her. Eyes flicked back to papers and books as she looked, and she blushed again, blood rushing into her pale cheeks to fill them with colour and life.

As the train began to slow again, drawing into the last stop, her breathing became fast and ragged. She looked around slowly, as if she could see another way out, a way of never arriving. She picked up her bag and looked inside, then out the window again. As the name of the station rang out down the carriage, she closed her eyes, and breathed in and out, in and out, once more.

As the train drew to a halt, her eyes snapped open once more. Against the pale skin of her face, they were dark, fiery. She stood up slowly and drew her coat around herself. Then she picked up her bag and began to walk slowly towards the doors, stiletto clad feet light on the carpeted floor. As the doors opened, she paused just slightly, and then stepped onto the platform.