He ran with the moving train, trying to get in. Luckily, he got a foothold, but was about to slip backwards when he saw an outstretched hand. He took her hand and eased himself into the first class. They spend the whole part of their journey looking at each other. The train was crowded the next day and she kept her books on the window-seat, holding it for him. She fought with school kids to retain it for him and angry passengers abused her. But, he always found his favourite seat unoccupied when he arrived.
Curious passengers always stared at them, trying to figure out their conversation. But, who can understand lovers, except lovers themselves?
She did not turn up one day. Nobody took the window seat, despite the crowd. They waited for him and he staggered to the compartment, looking stricken. But, he did not take the seat. He stood all the way to his station. He was never seen since then.
Written for Alastair’s Photo Fiction.