Benny Watts Imagines

To New York

The train case jolted and jostled me from side to side as it chugged along the tracks, trying to keep my black heels stable on the luxurious green carpet as I walked down the skinny corridor past all the little booths with doors closed, so too had there blinds closed on the window, The corridor visibly moving at the connecting door to the next carriage. The sweet glow of the glass lamps on the wooden walls, The glass with perfect art deco style painting on the glass work. The sound of the train chunting along down the track, nothing interesting out the window at the moment, the echo of the strange sound of the record player in the longue playing though the little speakers across the various train it playing such sweet old Hollywood music but it slightly echoed and strange , too low to break up the sound of the train itself but not low enough to ignore so you sort of hauntingly heard every third word or so of the sulty singers, but mostly the brass bands they plaid with. we left Cali only about an hour ago as I was in the dining car having a spot of afternoon tea looking over my notes. I walked down the little corridor looking for my day carriage holding my handbag in my hand, I glanced up seeing the little booth that as mine opening the door.

I looked in seeing the huge window with the outside world slowly going by, the two huge bank seats with the textured green fabric across them with some red pillows pumped on them, the green carpet continued inside, as did the glass lights on the wooden walls, two nets above the seats with the bags and suitcases that I didn't recognise, the table at the end of the booth attached below the window between the two seats, A Black and white wooden chess board set up on the table half plaid the pieces scattered at the sides of it, A white cup and saucer from the small waitress cart I saw pass by not to long ago in another car or two back, it had coffee in it only half drunk, the little paper lid to a cream or milk container sat on the side of the saucer, A Stetson or style greyish brown hat sat on the seat a small feather in the lining. And a Man. Sat on the right of the booth, at the table, his legs outstretched so much his feet at on the edge of the other seat, His brown shoes against the green fabric, He wore dark blue jeans that hugged him close but not as close as a skinny jean might, A black withered old leather belt around him a holstered knife on his left hip. A black button down shirt with Vertical white slightly glimmer lines though the many folds and wrinkles of the shirt, like it hadn't been pressed in decades, the buttons undone to the centre of his chest exposing the curves of his chest's pectoral muscles, Three chains laid on his skin, one long and silver, the next equally so but slightly shorter with a rectangular charm or pendant on it, the last the shortest but still hung low beyond where a t shirt collar would have sit, with another pedant perhaps a triangle, perhaps a heart in all honesty at this distance I didn't know. his neck exposed with the obvious stain of some woman's Pink lipstick still remained there even if it was obvious he has tried to wipe it away, His jaw strong and sculpted in a what I always had refereed to as a angular jaw where you could see the almost immediate corner of his jaw bone, hair lined his chin, much of it on the bottom of his chin with a slight amount under his bottom lip yet the two didn't connect, his lips emotionless and still, His upper lip had a gracing of hair there too not sculpted or organized at all as if he had started growing it at sixteen and just never shaved it, his nose sweet slightly moving where something in the air was annoying him and of course his breaths, His eyes that of melted chocolate or perhaps a watered down black coffee, Square on the red hardback in his right hand. His hair parted more towards his left side loose and almost wild the roots almost black much like his dark eyebrows, but as it headed down turned blonder with tones of honey, straw and chocolate mixed in highlights across his head, the hair fluffy and seemed to bounce at times with the movement of the train. The little red book in his hand the other against his cheek with some sweet silver signet rings across it, his elbow on the top of the seat. A long Black leather coat over his shoulders he sat in it like a second skin, as the leather was well worn and broken in enough it didn't restrict it at all.