The line dance

Camron

I awoke to the sound of the train rumbling beneath me, pearly white light flooding through the
windows, making my eyes water. unable to recall getting onto a train i get up, looking for a
familiar face, but there are none to be found I am the only one on the train, which is odd
because it's the almost christmas december 19th to be exact. the train is spotless not a flake
of dust in sight i sigh and think to myself, how much of fortune this seat must have cost
never been on a train quite like it. as i move into the next cabin i spot an old man with plump
full cheeks and glowing skin but he must be at least 80. he was waking up from his slumber
his facial expression confused almost perplexed looking frantically around the cabin calling a
name i can't quite hear. The doors slide open as soon as i am near the old man looks up,
speaking his old english accent, rough almost horse
"Excuse me young man".
As I head closer I see he has one brown leather briefcase next to him firmly closed with too
many locks to count and the initials R.G. is beautiful golden handwriting so neat and clean is
the opposite to my handwriting.
"Yes sir"
I put on my best London accent trying to sound proper as my mum used to say "a good
London accent sounds rich and soothes anything else and you aint sound proper" . We
weren't actually from London, we were from Liverpool, the home of the beatles.
"Do you know where this train is heading?"
As i was about to answer i was cut off by a booming voice over the speakers the accent I can't quite distinguish not an accent I have hear before rough but smooth soft but harsh "all passenger head to your assigned exit door, we will be arriving at the platform shortly" but all that was on my mind now was what god damn platform we were arriving at!