the Devil and the Sea

81| Welcome to life.

I don't dare to move, I can't take my eyes off the train as it begins rolling away from the station. It seems to me that it is not the train that is moving away, but me: I am fading away slowly from Vincent's life. In a few days, I will become just another memory for Vincent, competing against all the others, trying desperately not to fade into oblivion. Will I allow that? Or will I run after him, to London, to claim my place in his life, and boldly state: "I am real, I am here, I won't fade away?"

A hard decision lies ahead. The mere thought of that choice freezes me in place, I can't even touch my face to dry away my tears.

As soon as Vincent entered the train car, I instantly felt empty. And this fact does not bode well. I can already feel the storm coming.

I thought that because of Mark, everything that was possible inside me had already broken. But it turned out that Vincent had some strange influence on me and revived everything again, but only to break me again.

Everything seems meaningless, and the more I resist the growing impotence, the more it binds me.

I want to stop the train. I want to make Vincent come out. I want him to stay.

If he wanted to, he himself would have stayed.

He would not need my requests if he himself wanted it as much as I do. He wouldn't have asked me to tear up the ticket, he would have done it himself. If only he wanted it.

But we all decided, and the only thing left is to stand still and humbly watch how this train takes away a person who has become something more for me than I allow myself to think.

Or is this just another attempt to romanticize everything?

People who see someone off, like me, stand in front of the windows, wave their hands and blow kisses to loved ones and even follow the train.

No, Vincent won't even come to the window to say goodbye to me like that. Convulsively, I slide my eyes over the windows of the cars, thinking that maybe I will see him one more time.

The train is accelerating.

I take off. I run after the train, ignoring the people I nearly bump into.

Faster Faster.

Maybe Vincent went to the window to look at me one last time. Maybe he's standing at the window hoping to see me again.

I try to run faster, looking for a familiar image in the windows. I know I won't make it. I know I won't see him. I know it won't change anything, but for some reason I still run.

Breathe heavily.

Finally, the train overtakes me and the last train car passes by at high speed, leaving my hair tousled in the wind.

My lungs constrict, I stop and give myself time to catch my breath, looking at how the last car gradually disappears into the distance. I straighten up and feel an unbearable feeling of emptiness. Impossible burning in my chest.

It takes me a few minutes to recover and move.

I slowly take a few steps, look back at the train for the last time. Returning, I find myself on the steps, sit on the top one and look in front of me, trying to even out my breathing, to make my heart beat in a calm rhythm.

The gripping melancholy makes me feel physical pain.

I reach into my pocket and pull out a pack of cigarettes. Taking out one cigarette along with a lighter, I put the pack back.

Slowly ignite, slowly inhale, let the smoke stay in my lungs a little more than usual, exhale slowly.

Tears keep running down my cheeks. Have I always had such warm tears?