Loneliness, love, romance and the long distance railway - an online flash fiction story by Rob Hopcott

She had short brown hair framing a pert face and a formal pastel green short jacket over a knee length pastel green skirt and was sitting opposite me in the railway carriage.

A magazine was open in front of her but she had not turned a page for the last hour. English towns and fields flashed by under her steady unseeing gaze and her thoughts seemed far away.

Underneath her formal suit jacket, I noticed her white blouse had been wrongly buttoned as if she'd dressed quickly.

Her sad eyes suggested thoughts of lost love or a romance once shared and now ended.

Eventually, the carriage was almost empty and we sat facing each other, alone. It became embarrassing not to speak, not to acknowledge each other.

I wondered what to say. It didn't seem right to be inconsequential.

My London flat awaited me at the end of this journey from Dover. The central heating had been off for the three weeks I had been away in Paris on business. It would be cold. There would be no food and, above all, nobody would be waiting for me.

Our eyes met and I felt that her thoughts were similar to mine. I have never been one for smalltalk and prefer to speak from the heart. It has often got me into trouble but my habits were not about to change.

"You haven't read your magazine at all," I said. "Your thoughts must have been really interesting."

"Not interesting, but they certainly occupied my mind," she said.

Her smile was sad and gentle, with a sideways glance under her fringe that appraised me, I suddenly realised, not merely as a fellow passenger, but also as a man.

She saw my boring black trousers, old grey pullover and old-fashioned Harris tweed jacket and I suddenly wished I'd dressed more smartly.

I threw caution to the winds.

"I wonder, are you thinking about where you have come from or where you are going? "

Her hazel eyes widened and I could see she was struggling with her response. I'd been intrusive but I didn't care.

She answered my question with a question.

"And what about you? Are you looking forward to getting home?"

"My flat in London will be cold. My refrigerator will be empty. Amongst the millions in the city of London, I will be completely alone."

A tidal wave of emotions swept across her face and her eyes were moist as if she was fighting back tears.

"Perhaps it is better," she said, "to return to an empty flat where you will feel alone than it is to return to a house full of people yet still feel completely alone. At least you won't have to pretend."

"And the place you have come from," I said. "Were you alone there?"

"That place doesn't exist any more for me," she said. "Nor does the man I wrongly believed I knew."

"Whoever he was, "I suspect he didn't know the value of what he enjoyed," I suggested.

"He had no idea," she said flatly, and returned to gaze out of the window.

We had made contact and no longer needed to talk for the rest of the journey.

Somehow we now shared an easy camaraderie of intimate feelings and mutual pain.

I helped her with her suitcase and she left me standing beside mine on the platform as she walked away, pulling her suitcase on its tiny wheels behind her.

Slowly, I made my way through the bustling crowds towards the exit, wondering whether to take a taxi or to use the underground back to my flat.

Soon, the platform was behind me and I stood besides the ticket office trying to make the decision.

I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was the lady from the train.

"Do people who are lonely, by keeping each other company, cancel the pain they both feel ?"

Her voice was soft, reflective and melodious. It sounded less a proposition and more a continuation of our conversation.

I put down my suitcase, took her hand and drew her to me, placing a gentle kiss on her lips.

"Hello," I said. "I don't know but I would certainly like to find out."

"Hello," she replied, kissing me back, "neither do I and I also would like to find out."

As we walked hand-in-hand to find a taxi to take us to a place which we would make warm together, neither of us needed to speak .

There would be time for talking later - perhaps even a lifetime.

But, just for tonight, perhaps neither of us would feel alone.

The End

Rob Hopcott, online author

Enjoyed this? You may also enjoy Deceiving My Wife - a short postcard fiction story.

This short short flash fiction story about loneliness, love, romance and the long distance railway is copyright Rob Hopcott 2008, all rights reserved. All characters and places in this flash short fiction romance story and other free on-line humor, short stories, flash fictions, science fictions, micro-fictions, sudden fictions, post card fictions or very short stories on this site, are fictitious and no reference is intended to any person or organization, living or otherwise.