She wasn’t supposed to be on this train. However, he was, and that was all that mattered to Analise. She typically wasn’t one to negotiate with what was right and what was wrong; she also wasn’t one to get on trains with strangers she met at stations in London. That’s not who she was. Analise Stone was someone who stuck to the facts. She let her brain do the work; her heart seldom got in on the plan. However, she was quickly learning that this was the reason why her narratives never fully formed. She didn’t allow herself to be reckless. She didn’t allow herself to let love into her life. They didn’t rush to find seats as they got on the train. Analise found this to be odd. Why not sit in the first place that was available? And what happens when they ask to see her ticket? “Do these seats work for you?” he asked, and Analise looked up, staring into the eyes she was quickly growing used to. She nodded, thankful to sit anywhere near him. She already had ideas of stories forming in her head. “I have to tell you, Ms. Stone, this is the first time I’ve brought a stranger on a train ride with me. I’m new to this type of risk,” he said. Analise felt herself smiling again. “Please call me Analise. It feels weird to hear someone call me ‘Ms. Stone’ who isn’t my boss,” she paused. “And, I’ve also never gotten on a train with a stranger before. There’s something about your presence that.. Inspires me?” Her voice turned up in a question, and he waited for her to elaborate. Christopher tilted his head ever so slightly, almost as if he was trying to understand without interrupting her. He would never want to interrupt her. In fact, he never wanted her to stop talking. He wanted to hear her smooth voice forever. “Inspires you?” he questioned. Analise took a breath, suddenly aware of how it had sounded out loud. “I don’t know. That came out wrong.” “No,” he said. “It didn’t.” She glanced down at her hands, unexpectedly shy around him. “I just haven’t been able to write in, like, forever. When we were making up stories for that guy, it was the most inspiration I had felt in a while. Being around you just helps me think, I guess.” Christopher smiled. He liked the idea of helping someone. He couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t yearned to be wanted like this. “I’ll take that,” he said softly. The train hummed beneath them as it picked up speed. Analise shifted, reaching below the seat for her bag. She carefully unzipped it, rummaging inside for a leather notebook. When she retrieved it, she laid it on the table in front of them, flipping to the last page she had written in. “I haven’t been able to finish this sentence,” she said, carefully pointing to a line left unfinished. “I don’t know, something about you makes me feel like I can finish it.” “Then write, Analise. You’ve got me for the next six hours,” he said. He said it so effortlessly, like he truly believed this hideaway would last forever. For a moment, neither of them spoke. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just unfamiliar, like they were both trying to figure out what this was supposed to be. Analise glanced toward the window. She had to get off in Paris; it was non-negotiable. However, she felt so safe here. So untouchable. “You need to get off at the next stop,” Christopher said, breaking the silence. Her head turned back toward him. “What?” “You have this look in your eye,” he stated instead of elaborating. “What look?” Analise asked. *more in notes and credits
“Like you’re trying to convince yourself that this,” he paused, signaling to both of them, “is all temporary.” She let out a quiet laugh that didn’t quite land the way she hoped. “It is temporary, Christopher. I don’t know you.” “Right,” he said, and he felt his heart break all over again. The silence between them shifted. For as long as Analise had known this strange man, six hours to be exact, he had felt known to her, like she had known him for years. Now, he felt foreign. “We never finished our game earlier,” she finally spoke. His lips curved again, thankful for the shift in conversation. “You’re right. We didn’t.” She looked down the aisle, scanning all the people. “Pick someone.” Christopher leaned closer, following her gaze until he saw them. “See that couple by the door?” he asked, dropping his voice. Analise nodded. “They’re pretending this isn’t goodbye.” Something in her chest tightened, just slightly. “Why?” she asked, and her voice cracked as she spoke. Christopher shrugged, but it wasn’t careless. “Because if they say goodbye, everything becomes real.” Analise swallowed, eyes still locked on the couple. “Your turn,” he said. She still didn’t look away. “They already said goodbye,” she murmured, just quiet enough that he could hear it. “They just didn’t mean what they said.” Christopher didn’t respond. The train came to a rushing halt, and Analise’s eyes flickered to the platform. She realized where they were. Paris. It felt too fast. Like the six hours had folded in on themselves, like time had skipped the parts that mattered. “Goodbye, Christopher,” she said softly, already standing before she could think too hard about it. He didn’t move right away. For a second, just one small second, it seemed to Analise that he might ask her to stay. He didn’t. “Goodbye, Analise,” he said instead. She nodded like that was enough for her, like he was just a stranger she met in London six hours prior. She left then, retrieving only her bag from below her, leaving everything else left behind on the train. He didn’t see it at first. Only as the train began to regain its speed did he notice it. He stared at it for a moment, looking at it as if it didn’t belong. Christopher reached for her notebook slowly. The only thing left to signify that Analise was real and not just a figment of his loveless imagination. He flipped through the pages slowly, landing on a sentence that looked familiar to him. “He couldn’t force himself to get on the train, because if he got on the train, then his fairytale in England would be over,” he read quietly to himself. He closed the notebook carefully, like it was something fragile, something he wasn’t sure he deserved to hold onto. For the first time since he stepped onto this very train six hours earlier, he wished he had planned to get off earlier.
