Broken Trains And Exposed Veins

7 | Changes And Memories

        It’s a cold winter morning, one that hasn’t occured in a long time. Not for at least a couple of years. White flakes of snow descend from the sky and cover the stone train platform. Everywhere I look there are people rushing by, wrapped in scarves and fur coats. You can notice it’s nearly Christmas seeing the large plastic fir tree placed on the main center of the train station. Although it’s well covered in snow you can still make out some decorations. Along some parts of the walls of the small buildings are also put up some fairy lights - glowing softly in the hazy evening.

        As my train arrives I hastily rush inside, not wanting to stay in this icy blizzard any longer. As I sit down on one of the hideous blue chairs - seriously, these have been here for ages and need replacement fast - I brush off any snowflakes that have gotten on me. During my brush-session, my eyes wander across the crowded train. As it’s the first day of Christmas break, there are considerably more people on the train. Heaps of men and women are piled together, a few children playing games on their phones.

        As my eyes continue to wander I suddenly spot a boy, seeming about my age. A few moments later the boy walks into the train and is in plain sight, only a few meters away from me. He seems familiar, though I can’t quite recall from where I could possibly know him. The boy - who has strikingly green eyes may I add - sits down a row behind me and I can’t help but let my brain overwork to remember the boy. He is quite handsome and his curls fall over his head nonchalantly, something not everyone can pull off. His dark green hoodie is a bit too large for his frame, the hood put over his head a bit. Over his hoodie he wears a huge black bomber jacket, his hands put in the pockets.

        As he looks up to me, I fastly turn back around, not wanting to seem like a staring creep. An intense heat rises in my cheeks and I’m glad the boy can’t see me and my tomato-like face.

        As the train starts rolling away from the station, my mind is still overworking, trying its hardest to remember the boy. Maybe if I’d just peek a little, just to print his face in my mind a bit better? Slowly I turn my head, trying not to attract the attention of the boy - just to examine his appearance a second longer. But suddenly he looks up and our gazes meet, catching me in my secret examination. Though this time I somehow don’t have the nerve to turn back, but simply keep staring at him - and he stares back.

        Seconds our eyes are locked onto each others, and it almost seems like the boy seems to recognize me as well.

        “Lily?”

        And in that moment it’s like the last piece of the puzzle has fallen into place. That low voice, those messy curls, those strikingly green eyes.

        “Logan.”

        As soon as I speak his name, his face lits up. It’s suddenly as if all the memories flow back into my mind. The broken down train in the snow storm. The dimmed lights and Mary who gave us hot chocolate and those tasteless sandwiches. Mary, the overly excited lady with the colourful clips in her bouncy hair - who I never saw again after that occurence.

        Just how I never saw Logan again.

        Until now.

        Logan stands up and then sits down next to me, examining me from head to toe.

        “You’ve changed,” he states as he’s done with looking at my appearance. “Your hair is shorter and it’s lighter,” he speaks and I can smell the familiar scent of cigarettes.

        “You haven’t changed a bit, though,” I say as I examine him a bit more. “Still those green eyes and messy hairdo,” I joke. I can feel the tension between us, the awkwardness after the things that happened between us and not seeing each other for three years.

        “You know, I was devastated when I found out we hadn’t got each others numbers. I searched for your number for days, but I’d never gotten your last name so I never found you,” Logan confesses and looks down.

        “I was devastated too,” I sigh as I feel Logan’s hand gently grab mine. His hands still have those exposed veins and his fingers are still as bony and slim.

        “You know, I still have your burgundy sweater,” I smile, trying to get rid of the tension.

        “Guess I’ve gotta get that back, then,” he chuckles and looks at me. His gaze lingering on my lips. I try to suppress the red shade coming up in my cheeks, but I don’t have long, because before I know it Logan’s hand snakes to the small of my back and his lips are softly pressed against mine.

        After about an hour Logan and I leave the train - thankful it didn’t break down due to an unwanted snow storm or anything. During the train ride we mainly relived memories and talked about our lives. I learned he actually lives not too far from me, so I was obviously surprised I never ran into him the past three years.

        “So what now?” Logan speaks, clouds coming from his mouth due to the cold outside. It’s snowing a bit, though you can barely notice it.

        “Guess you want your sweater back?” I chuckle. “It’s at my house.”

        “We could go there, yeah. But you know, something inside of me says we should go for pizza first,” he smirks.

        “Well, you did told me you’d someday buy me pizza,” I chuckle, thinking back at the time we played his selfmade ‘Question Game’ and asked me what my favorite pizza was in the most provocative way possible.

        “Guess we’re gonna have pepperoni’s tonight, then.”

        “You remembered,” I say, stunned.

        “Of course. Who wouldn’t remember their lovers’ favorite pizza?” He smiles, before taking my hand in his. And I swear in that moment I somehow felt happy our train broke down three years ago.