Never Let Them Define You

NO TIME LIKE THE PRESENT

She leans over the tracks and stares at the distant train, then backs up and sits down on a concrete bench, and fiddles with her watch. Right on time; no divine intervention today, I guess. She feels her gut twisting inside her, then holds her sides and hunches over as she takes rapid, shallow breaths, and looks back and forth. Fuck, I look like a mess. She slaps herself and pulls her whole body back into proper posture, then stretches her arms out and yawns as hard as possible, which causes her arms to tremble a bit, and she pulls herself back together completely.

"Are you alright, ma'am?" says a man standing beside her.

"What? Yes, yes, fine, very good, now go away."

"Okay, I just thought you might be sick or something." He chuckles nervously and backs away slowly, then moves to a different part of the station, and she looks over at him.

Good, I guess some people still have enough self-respect to take a hint. The sharp whistle of steam grows slowly louder, then the chugging of iron wheels, and soon the giant, metal hull of the train fills her view and slowly rolls past her as it gradually slows to a stop. She clutches her suitcase and looks back and forth at the massive vehicle, taking in its breadth, then steps forward and boards. Only a two-day journey to Boston from here, the train will be comfortable, I'll have my own room, and no one will bother me as I prepare to see her for the first time in a while. She looks down at her ticket and searches for the corresponding room, then sees a conductor briskly pacing down the hall.

"Thirty minutes to departure!" He yells at the top of his lungs. "Please make your accommodations as soon as possible and swiftly make your way to your place of stay!" He rushes past her and bumps her shoulder, then shouts, "Sorry!" He stops, then looks back at her sideways, and asks, "Aren't you the, uh..."

No. "Cassandra Nova," she says as politely as she can muster with a similarly forced smile.

"Oh my God! I love your shows, I'm a Motor City native." He laughs. "Just wonderful to have you boarding here!" He smiles and waves, then takes off, and starts to yell everything he had before.

She moves to her room as quickly as she can and slams the door behind her, then locks it, and looks around at her temporary abode. A simple steel-frame bunk bed sits in the corner, next to it is a small window that she can see the station through very clearly, and a small, plastic kitchen setup is on the other side of the room. She steps into the center of the room, then sighs and holds up her arms, and spins around with a smile on her face. She notices a tall, dark wooden wardrobe to the left of the door, on the other side there are two doors with tiny handles, and she walks up and swings them open to see the tiniest closet ever.

She turns around and kneels down to open her suitcase, then packs several changes of clothes into the wardrobe, and some basic toiletries into the closet. A knock on the door startles her and she looks cautiously towards it, then slowly approaches and opens it twice as slowly. She opens it just wide enough to see through, then acknowledges a young man clutching a briefcase, with a nice, little suit and hat on, and utters, "Who are you?"

"Uh, nobody, really." He chuckles and holds up his briefcase. "Just trying to get to Florida."

"What do you want?" She squints and quickly darts her vision back and forth between his emerald eyes with flecks of forest green.

"Um, well." He laughs awkwardly. "After I boarded, they told me they found mold in my room when they were inspecting it and..." his eyelids flutter, he steps back a bit, and stammers, "you have a very intense stare, by the way. Anyways, um, since we both have rooms to ourselves, they told me to, uh, stay in this, um, room, and, uh, yeah." He laughs even more awkwardly and claps.