derailed she was at a train station with no direction in mind. the world spun on behind her, people talking on business calls, yelling at kids to “keep up!” it was his fault she was here, adrift in a world where being tethered to inanimate objects was key. she wondered how hard it would be to dash across the train tracks and avoid being caught. it was the type of thought he would have. he had been damaged for a long time. his childish snowflake edges now sharpened into knives, unwittingly ready to cut anyone who came near. his flowered heart once blooming and joyful, now a ninja star, incapable of being cradled by smooth hands. he had spent many hours looking at the moon. or glaring at it. she didn’t know. but his silhouette hunched on the deck and bathed in white light was a secret for only her. his fingers were always calloused now, ridges from guitar strings pressed into them. permanently. she secretly hoped she could hear him in the night. sorrowful tunes made by someone who knew what he was doing even if he never showed it. the wrinkles behind his eyes faded long before she realized he never smiled anymore. they were on separate trains heading in opposite directions and the most she could do was press up against the window and love him while it lasted.