DeLana Gibbons

Runaway Train

The swaying woke me. The soft undulation, the back and forth motion. Normally considered an excellent conveyance to the land of dreams, it may also be the catalyst to wakefulness. And so I swayed. Back and forth, like a swaddled babe. Bumping the window ever so slightly. I came to fairly rapidly, wondering who I was and where I was. The answers normally come rapidly to mind, but not this time. I sat, swaying, and thoroughly dumbfounded. Where was I? More importantly, WHO was I? I was alone in the private car, without clues to either question.