There's A Reason- Molly Englehardt

I miss him, that young fellow at the tracks. I remember his face—kind and soft. He had a light to him, something I couldn’t quite place at the time. Had I not listened to his tales, I would have assumed he lived a carefree life. 

God, was I wrong, so very wrong. 

His life began with the end of another, he had said. He succeeded a man who had it all—then lost it all; the byproduct of a life gone off-kilter. He told me how he had woken up one day, unaware of his surroundings, head full of people without faces, places without names. He had woken up on a train—speeding on the tracks, going nowhere. When the train eventually stopped, he was introduced to a world he couldn’t quite remember. He had wandered for a while, searching for anything to answer the swarm of questions in his head, desperate for anyone to come and fill the holes in his memory.

He talked about a place, a small community he had stumbled upon. He walked the wooded paths as he neared the center of the square, searching for familiar landmarks. What he was met with was a war zone—a crater lay where the center of town may have once been. Debris from various buildings lay askew across the wreckage. The young man had felt a twinge of sorrow upon seeing the ruins, almost a guilt.

He had wandered for what felt like forever, from place to place, meeting new people, seeing new things. He slowly began to settle into his own existence, enjoy the life he was haphazardly thrown into. He was happy for a while, is what he had said, he had grown to like his life as well as the people in it. He had wished it would last forever.

But all good things eventually come to an end, right?

He had to go back

Back to the train station. The place in which he had miraculously come to be—though he assumed that now it meant that his time here had come to a close. He shared his concerns with me: where would the train take him? Back to where he was before? Where was that? His resolve to find out grew as the train entered into the station. He didn’t seem to be afraid, his eyes steeled with determination. I wonder how I’d feel in his position, to look your demise in the face, and embrace it. 

I watched as the train pulled into the station, with a soft ding, the doors slid open. The man stepped onto the train, looking back at me with a sallow expression. I had so many things left to ask him—but before I could, a soft female voice rang over the intercom:

“This train is now ready to depart, please stand clear of the closing doors,”

Then he had smiled at me, and with a wave and a wistful look, the doors closed behind him.