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Writer's pictureElana Monteleone

Morning train

He hurried in,

assuming his usual seat;

Middle of the carriage, beside the window.

The seats were worn, but still comfortable,

and with his earphones in place

he watched the rolling hills move past him

in a frenzy of green and yellow.

He had grown used to avoiding the gaze of others,

a custom of the new generation.

But today, he couldn't help but greet the eyes

of the silver-haired woman sitting opposite;

whose soft grey eyes met his,

inviting him to say good morning.

And he sensed it, so he did.

And he did not miss his usual playlist,

nor the silence,

when his device was stowed away.

Her round cheeks lifted with a smile.

Another beautiful day, she thought.

What an interesting morning, he decided.

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