a bunch of one shots <3

train. (<3)

              (this is a female x male by the way, but i'm  open to writing anything in the future!)

the train bumped along the rails, and i clutched onto the cloth seat i had been sitting on like it was my last hope. the bags above my head rattled, threatening to fall on me.
   oh god oh god oh god oh god why'd i take the train i hate trains cmon y/n you know you hate train rides
   "pardon me?" a man said from the doorway. i slicked the top of my hair back, a nervous tic i had acquired in the past couple years. i relaxed my hands.
   "yes?" i said through gritted teeth. i had always been skittish around other people, but it had always come out in the form of cold rejection.
   "got room for one more?" the man asked politely. i internally groaned.
    "sure." i said quickly, looking away from him as soon as possible. he had a perplexed look on his face, a stupid grey hat dangling from his annoying head. looking out the window was my best defense for not talking to this guy, so that's what i did for the next half an hour or so.
   after that half an hour, though?
   "mhmm." the man cleared his throat, trying to catch my attention. i ignored it. obviously.
   "mHmM." he was louder this time.
    "did you need something?" i finally turned to look at this annoying stranger's face, only to be bombarded with annoyingly styled (whatever style hair you want to think of it as) that did not fail to look ridiculous after taking off the stupid grey hat.
    "i was wondering where you're going." i gave him a look. "n-no not like that. sorry. i meant like what kind of scenery. you just seemed fascinated by the scenery of (place you would like to travel to)."
   "oh, it's just a change from home i guess." i said quickly, and he leaned in towards me from across the compartment, intrigued. i guess it couldn't hurt to talk to him, right?
   we talked for a while more, and i learned that the man was rather cunning and had a habit for picking at the inside of his palm on his left hand. the things you notice.
   "so, do you like reading?" he asked after a while. i chuckled.
   "a bit."
   "i saw the book of emily dickinson poems sticking out of your bag earlier. i brought the same one with me."
    "oh really? i'm not a huge poetry fan to be honest, but it was the first book i could grab off the shelf at home."
   "ah." he he smiled a bit, a real, genuine smile. "i have another great poems book if you would like to read it." he reached, and grabbed a small pocketbook out of his bag. he handed it to me, pressing it into my hands. i opened the page to find small handwritten notes next to elegantly typed words.
   "i hope you enjoy it. it's not often i lend these things out." he said, looking at the book as though it was his dearly beloved.
   "i suppose you're wondering how you'll get it back to me. you don't know my phone number, email, anything." he said, smirking.
   "i'm quite sure you write both in the front of the book."
   "and you say that you don't know me."
   with that, he briskly walked out of the compartment, waving a hand behind him as he went. through the window, i could see him jumping off the train and tipping his stupid grey hat to people on the street, smiling and dancing around the crowd.
   i leaned back against the old cloth seat, the tired old yarn ends scratching against my skin. i smiled.
   maybe trains weren't that bad.