Feb 2, 2019
1 min read
Vicarious Traveler
The low rumbling seeps in through the window panes.
I open my eyes to the darkness just as the whistle begins to blow.
Two short blasts and one long one.
Metal cars sitting atop metal wheels announce their presence as they roll on metal tracks.
It comforts me, the train that passes by, only a stone’s throw from my window, night after night.
