The Woman at the Train Station.

Much like airports, train stations are a good place to observe people. It is always when two individuals are about to part ways for a certain period of time–or when they find each other back–that you can see just how the human race is constituted of fragile beings. In those sacred moments when goodbye is whispered like a prayer and hello is celebrated like a chant, you can feel connected to the many emotions surrounding you. Whether you are feeling joyous or sad, you will always find a companion carrying as much of the same feeling as you do.

But here, in the middle of the station platform, was a young woman who could not connect with anyone else emotions. She stood alone, with a treasure chest box cradled in her arms for only luggage. Men and women alike turned around stunned by her singular beauty. Her auburn hair cascading down her back moved ever so slightly each time a traveler rushed past her. Her big eyes, of a green that could compete with an emerald stone, were filled with sorrow; yet, it didn't dim the brightness of her gaze.

As she watched lovers embrace one last time a shy smile crossed her full lips. Unconsciously she tightened her grip on the treasure chest box she carried with her. And as she bowed her head to press her lips on the cold wood of the valuable object, she remembered the time she loved and was loved in return.