The Train

I gently thumbed the page of my book, rereading a sentence that I hadn’t quite absorbed. There was a smell of sweet baked goods that was travelling through the train, and excited chatter as we stopped in Edinburgh. I crossed my legs and sat up straight, determined to concentrate on my book. I started the chapter over again and focused; I read up to the next chapter before the train began to move again. The shriek of the train whistle startled me, and I watched out the window as people and other trains blurred past. There were shouts outside of my door and I rubbed my temple gently to try to block it out. The voices were pacing back and forth, mumbling to themselves and one another. Every now and then a door would open and slam violently; flashlights were slapped against policemen's hands. And then the sound of the train’s whistle echoed once again in the train car and I dropped my book onto my lap in surprise. I took that as a sign, and closed it for the moment.