Crossing Tracks
Spring, 2020
As usual, over breakfast, he told her about what he had dreamt the night before, not the whole dream, just the leftover scraps and remnants and clinging ivy, nothing special that morning, a dream like any other, like so many others. He had found himself on a train and it had started to leave that city, slowly at first, like trains do in reality, and then he had looked through the window and she was on the platform, she was not onboard, she was there looking with amazement at the train but not s...
