train ride

Did I really?

StoryKettle » Red Wash » train ride

Copyright © 2011, Michael M Wayman

Oh, fuck! It hit me. The hotel room door was locked from the inside. Who locked it? The dead man or you. Who killed the dead man? You did!

I buy a return ticket at the railway station and sit on the platform to wait for the train. I'm just sitting here trying to be uninteresting, just waiting for a train.

It is a big station, I'm sitting on what my brother would call an island platform. I don't look behind me to see where that train is going to. I not looking at anything. Please, everybody, I'm not here.

“Good evening, Lady!” says a voice from behind me. “Don't look round! The police have found the body, but they don't know about you yet. Just get the hell out of here! Which is why you are here. Very good! My train home is just pulling in. Good night, Lady!”

The train leaves, but I do not look round, probably a local train.

After two hours in my train, I get off two stops early. I know this town. Same trick again, I buy some better clothes and a small suitcase, change in the toilets, dump in the charity bin, and I am a smart young business woman.

I book into a hotel.

I am sitting on the end of a big double bed in my underwear watching a big TV.

I am lonely.

I am a murderer.