Lorna

The whistle blew as the train barreled down the tracks. Lorna stood at the edge of the platform, the rain pelting against her thin jacket. Her shoulder length, honey brown hair was soaked, and she felt like a drowned rat. She looked down at her shoes, scuffed at the toes where she had kicked against the concrete wall before she fled. She raised her eyes and looked down the long row of tracks. In another two minutes the train would reach the station, and she would finally be out of her misery. She looked around quickly to see if anyone had come into the station.

 

It was even too early for the commuters; the first train into Maple Grove wouldn’t arrive until five, almost an hour minutes after the express freight made its way through the station. She moved closer to the edge of the platform edge.  The whistle blew again, long and loud.  It’s now or never, she thought. She closed her eyes and took a step forward. And her breath caught when she was caught in a hold so tight that she could hardly breathe.

 

“It’s dangerous to be so close, don’t you think?” A deep male voice spoke into her ear.

 

She had not heard him approach. She twisted around, her gaze meeting the velvet blue of his in a connection that was instant. The rain grew louder, and the air hummed between them. Her mind was flooded with the thought of the summer rain as she searched his face. He looking down at her with an odd expression of concern, which she found surprising coming from someone that she didn’t know. His voice reminded her of music, deep and resonant, like the strings on a cello

 

He let go of her and stepped back, his eyes on her.

 

“Are you okay, miss?”

She pushed her sopping hair off her forehead with her free hand, held it there as she twined her fingers in her own hair. She looked up at the tattered edges of the terminal littered with rows of rust-covered street lights casting a pale warmth against the cold of the rain.

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