24 hours on a train is a long time.
I remember how we met. I met a young boy with a poker playing family and got myself dealt in. At the time, I played a lot of poker. He and I decided to go the top car and there you were. You wanted to play poker with us. I believe you were headed to British Columbia. My stop was sooner, Seattle.
I remember the way you said garbage, and how I asked you to say it at least 20 times. I laughed every time. Gahhhhrrr-baaage. I’m still laughing.
I just graduated from college. You were a few years older. You were a lot taller. An aspiring chef. I hope you are doing what you love today. You laughed at me because I loved Iron Chef. I asked you about foie gras and you talked about making it for ages, because how is duck liver not romantic?
Those trees, that scenic view. We ran around that train until the small hours of the morning. Out of nowhere you kissed me. You let me sleep on your lap.
When my stop arrived you were sad. I still laugh about that train attendant calling me lover girl when I stepped off.
We wrote for a while, it only seemed like ages.
24 hours, after 16 years.
— The fug.