Petty Happenings

XI. (eleven)

After two minutes of hesitant, uncertain silence (only between the three, other passengers were yelling like wild animals) the group of them agreed, silently, to have another rest. It was, of course, only a bit past two o'clock, but it was extremely tiring, staying in one place for hours on end. And now, with their stormy delay, they have extra hours added on top of the already long train ride.

Novaleen was cuddled next to the wall she sat by, her neck craned in what had to be an uncomfortable position--one that made the young woman cringe--but the other girl was asleep in record timing.

Zayn was nodding on and off, simply sitting slouched in his seat while resting his head against the wall behind him. His position seemed more favorable.

The young woman herself sat upright, unwrapping her earbuds and putting them in her ears. Upon choosing the playlist most suiting to her mood, she leaned back and closed her eyes. Within minutes, she had fallen asleep.

The young woman found herself in a familiar room, all alone. It contained no windows or doors--was simply a faintly-lit, boxed room. She had an odd sense of déjà vu, as if she had been here a previous time. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she was dreaming, yet she couldn't seem to control what was happening or what she was thinking.

"Why are you in this room all by yourself?" a male voice asked.

The young woman turned her, finding a boy sitting against the wall across from her. While she couldn't make out his overall appearance, she felt more than saw what he looked like. The boy, around her age, had an invisible emotion cloud around him that seeped into her skin, too. She felt lost yet calm at the same time.

"I don't know," said the young woman truthfully. "You're in here now, aren't you?"

The boy cocked his head to the side. "Am I? Or am I a figment of your lonely imagination?"

She ignored his response. "What's your name?"

"Harold Edward Styles."