The Walk to the Train

It wasn’t an unusually chilly day. It was, as he would say, pleasant. The trees stood still. Some bare, some not. It wasnt sunny. But it wasnt gloomy. It was just right. With the mountains in the backdrop, the scene was beautiful. The only noises I heard were from the birds. They seemed excited about something. They were giggling, I think. What were they so happy about? Maybe spring. Or maybe one of their friends had a baby (or babies). They made me happy. I could smell all the deliciousness wafting out of the kitchens.

Then, I heard the slow rumble of tires against tarmac. I was getting closer to the road. Vehicles zoomed by, some screeched to a halt. I couldn’t hear the birds anymore. Except for a distant chirp. City sounds. The sounds of the pedestrian crossing signal, music from a loud passerby, footsteps on the sidewalk, the trains and the tracks: metal against metal.

I took out my phone. I had to write it all down. Then, I got into my train.

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