Last Train
I don’t like counting days. When the end comes, it will come. But I guess, today’s the day.
I’ve been standing here for a while now. Bag slung around my shoulder, one hand on the pole and the other right by my side. There are people around me and you are right next to me.
Our hands brush in the moving train. At first, we nodded, shy of embarrassment. But now, we let it be. Our hands touch in this moving train. There are people around us and you are right next to me.
Time passes by but not this space. The space between you and I remain. Our hands brushing one another’s, our smiles meeting each other’s. No one is around us and you are right next to me.
I don’t like counting time. When the end comes, it will come. But, I guess the time is now.
I hate Good-Byes.
