Dec 11
L.ucy'sW.ork's picture

On Track

He would never be able to tell you what happened last night. The other man couldn't, either. One that didn't know the men, a stranger, would think they got drunk. A friend of either knew better. Sadly, we can't ask a friend of both. Although, they might be wrong alongside the friend of one. I guess two wrongs can make a right.
Bouncey, bubbley, bright Brian was skipping his way along the sidewalk, next to the train tracks and river. He had grown up in this small town, seeing the tracks rust and the river dare to overflow each day. He was walking towards those tracks right now, and groaned when he heard a very distant, very faint train engine. He took out his phone to play a game, and got bored within seconds. He put his phone in his pocket and looked up at where the train would be in a minute. He met with eyes. Eyes he's seen before. Steel in color, still as before, but no longer as tempting. His chestnut brown hair seemed gloriously over-groomed, even if it was just combed and sprayed. Brian hit himself. He probably recognized him from a play, or-
The bar.
His face flushed red. He went to run over to him, but the train got closer and closer, and stopped him-in his tracks and its own.
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