Stories of the path less travelled.

All is quiet save for the terrific whoosh of air passing by the train as it speeds to its destination. The carriage is all but full, and each passenger sits calmly in their seats, lost in their own thoughts.

A young couple sits hand in hand, looking out the darkened window of the train.

She balls her fingers into a fist, pushes it in front of her co-passenger, thumb facing down. She mutters a few words, inaudible from here, but ends on a hopeful note. The young man turns his head slowly, a smile blossoming on his lips, and taps the bridge of his glasses up. He looks down at the hopeful fist and lets loose a few words. Gradually, growing more confident, the faint trickle grows to a waterfall of a speech; full bore. Still inaudible, but a whisper, he carries on. In what seems like a lull in the dialogue the young lady pulls the fist back her way to add something. (another question?) No; halfway through her interruption. Her (friend, partner, husband?) continues his speech. This time she lets him finish before punctuating the silence with a conjecture; here eyes wide with amusement. The young man reaches across, places his hands gently over her fist and tucks it neatly into her lap. They seem to stand still in the moment, cherishing it, in all its ephemeral sentiment. Slowly a smile blossoms on both their faces. A minute ((or two), or five?) passes. She looks away, serenely, continuing to smile. She looks down at her hand, and fidgets with the single gold band adorning her ring finger. After what seems like an hour she looks up and her gaze turns this way. I offer a knowing smile and she offers an embarrassed yet still dazzling smile. Not wanting to ruin this awkward moment, I turn to fiddle with my bag, and look out the darkened window of the train once again.

Jolly good!! By Asif