One shots - Phan

Train journeys

Today it's raining. It's the kind of rain that is so fine it's barley there, but gets you soaking in a matter of minutes. The air is cold, but not cold enough to create clouds of steam when you breathe out. But it's still cold enough to cause your nose to redden and body to shiver. It's lunchtime, so people are swamping the streets in search for a place to eat with their friends. However it's a Friday, so the parents are at work and the children are at school, and in reality all you see is the grumble of students grabbing a coffee before their next lesson starts. These are all guesses, as I'm at the station, alone, heading into town for rehearsals.

I've always wondered where people are headed to on trains. Each individual has their own story, separate from everyone else. They immerse themselves in their own tiny planet, undoubtedly different to the body sitting opposite them. Some are happy, some are neutral, and today was the first time I've come across someone so sad.

There's a man, sitting in front of me on a two seater, with tears silently streaming down his red face. He's holding a script in shaking hands, and I'm able to catch a few glimpses of the text through the gap in the seats. 'As you probably know, my name is Phil and I'm here to talk about what a wonderful person Tim was'. He's hunched over in an oversized coat as its considerably colder outside to what it is on this train, and he's trying so desperately hard to hide his face from everyone so nobody picks up on him crying.

I hope his speech goes well, he's seems like a lovely man.

He seems to get on my train every Friday now, and thankfully this week he is happier. He's on the phone to someone, laughing away about random antics that have happened over the week so far, and I'm now stating to believe that his mood really is reflected by the weather. It's sunny out, warm but not warm enough to get away without a long sleeved top of sorts. It's happy looking, just like him. He's speaking to a girl called 'Lucy' or a name of those sorts, I can't really tell because he keeps laughing. It's nice to see he's happy, maybe his speech last week went well, maybe not. All I know is he has a wonderful laugh, to fit his wonderful sounding personality.

I wish I could feel that happy sometime.

It's stormy today. It's cloudy and overcast and the train's windows have fogged up again, and he's angry. He's whispering his yells over the phone to someone, spitting profanities here and there. He's raising his voice every so often, only to bring it down again when he realises he's raised it. Once he hung up he let a loud sigh leave his lips and  slump back on the train seat, running his hands through his damp hair. It looks like he's been out in the storm, because his hair is stuck to his face and his coat is soaked through. I'm now starting to think he's a God of sorts, seeing as his emotion is reflected by the weather again. He's muttering under his breath as he sorts through his rucksack, obviously trying to find something he's lost. After a moment of searching he groans again and gives up, throwing his backpack onto the seat next to him. He's lost something.

I hope he finds whatever he lost.

It's snowing now, and I haven't seen him in a few months. I've begun to think he's moved or just doesn't need to get the train on a Friday anymore, but needless to say I miss him. He was interesting to watch on my journeys, and I treasured them dearly.  I wonder what his emotions have been recently, as it's been snowing for quite a while now. They must be nice, as snow is usually a good thing to wake up to. There have only been flurries of ice, but today it's close to a snowstorm.

The trains are delayed because of the snow, and they're busier than usual. Admittedly, I didn't expect to see him on the train, but I was pleasantly surprised when he was sat in his usual seat on his usual carriage reading a book. The only seat left was the one next to him, and I was nervous to disturb his bubble. He seemed content and I didn't want to ruin the emersion of his read. However I wanted to sit down, so I took the risk and sat next to the man I'd been watching for months.

He looked up at me, double glancing before he smiled and wonderful, pearly grin as he closed his book. I smiled timidly back at him, pulling on my coat sleeves.

"I've seen you around, you get this train every Friday don't you?" I nodded. So he has been paying attention. "My name is Phil, it's nice to finally speak to you." 

"I'm Dan." I smiled gingerly, nodding my head. "It's nice to meet you too, Phil."

Every Friday I meet him on the train. Every Friday we share new tales about our lives and family and friends. Last Friday he kissed me as I left. This Friday I'm going home with him. In the Friday's to come I can only expect good things because the weather has been amazing recently, and I can only thank him for that. He is a literal ray of sunshine, and beacon of light in the darkness.

He is Phil Lester, and he is the most wonderful man I've ever met.

This is pretty short.

The first three chapter are true, as there was a man called Phil on my train headed to a funeral, with a speech in his hands. He intrigued me and I had to write about him, and this the outcome. I hope it's okay.

I've been struggling with creativity recently as all of my a creative juices have been pushed towards dance and I haven't had the time to even think about writing. I'm trying to get back into it, let's hope this works.

Te amo.
Mitzu
Xx