The Last Train

Eleanor stood on the cracked concrete platform of the train station, the wind tugging at the hem of her coat, the evening air nipping through the material. Her suitcase, a battered leather affair that had seen too many years, rested firmly on the ground beside her feet. It contained all she had left, all she could carry away.Everything else was gone—thrown away like memories that no longer had a place in the life she had left behind.The city itself was a remote, stifling presence now. Its sound, its heartbeat, the constant hum of cars and people—it had assaulted her for too long. There was no room for her anymore in its narrow streets and smog-filled air. Every place had some memory of the past she was trying to get away from, but it was always there, lurking in the recesses of her mind.She looked up when the distant train whistle cut through the air and gave her a shiver. She didn't know where the train was headed and didn't even bother to try to learn. She only knew the train was in motion, and that was just as good for her. Her hand clenched around the suitcase handle, and she stepped closer to the tracks. The platform was deserted at this hour of the night, the dim orange lights creating long, solitary shadows. The city was closing down for the night, but Eleanor's world had ended.The train's roar grew louder, the thrumming vibrations making the ground tremble hard beneath her.The headlights of the approaching train sparkled through the smog haze, shining with an otherworldly glow in the dense, dirty air. It was a dream—distant and unreal—but it was happening. It had to be. There was no going back now. The train glided into the station in a shrieking halt, the wheels complaining on the tracks, and the doors slid open.There was a vortex of sound and activity as they streamed out, their faces vague and dark in the bad light. Eleanor stepped forward, breathing in the metallic scent of the train and the subtle smell of used leather.The cold of the air nipped at her skin as she got to the conductor, who was waiting at the door.Ticket?" he asked, his tone crisp and businesslike.Eleanor pulled the creased, half-creased ticket out of her coat pocket, her hands trembling a little. She passed it over in silence, and the conductor took a brief look at it before nodding.Final destination, he announced, his voice totally devoid of feeling. "Get out when we arrive.".She didn't respond, merely nodded in appreciation as she got on board. The interior of the train was dimly lit, and the seats groaned, were worn out, and hard. There was dust and leather in the air, a faint reminder of the years that the train had been running. Eleanor spotted an empty seat by the window and sat down, pulling her suitcase in close to her feet. She gazed out of the window as the station, and then the city, gradually disappeared into the evening darkness. The train jolted forward, the engine coming to life, and Eleanor felt a slight, almost imperceptible release. It was as though the city had been holding her captive for far too long, and now, as the train started to carry her away from it, she felt the strain inside her start to dissipate.She couldn't remember the last time she had felt so liberated, so unencumbered. Her fingers traced the ripped seams of her jacket, and she couldn't help but think about how it had all come to this. The arguments. The deceptions. The times she'd been invisible, suffocated beneath the weight of expectations and hollow promises of a life she didn't want. The life she'd been meant to accept. When did things go so awry? She recalled the day she'd packed her bags—how she'd stood before the mirror, gazing at the reflection of the woman she once was, the woman she'd worked so tirelessly to become. She'd gazed at a total stranger. It was then that she realized she needed to escape. The train swayed back and forth, and Eleanor's eyes closed, her forehead resting against the cold glass of the window. Her mind wandered back to what she had left—her small apartment with the shattered windows, the unspoken words between her and her family. There was no place for her there now. No home. Not in the sense that she understood. She opened her eyes once more and looked out into the distance in front of her. The city was behind her now, a blur on the horizon of the rearview mirror of her life. In front of her lay the emptiness. The conductor's words echoed in her ears: Last stop. Eleanor had no idea where this train was headed, but she was not worried about that. She wasn't fleeing; she was going forward, train ride by train ride. She would meet whatever was in front of her head-on. She wasn't looking for a new place to live. She was looking for herself. The train rumbled onward into the darkness, its wheels softly clacking along the tracks, and Eleanor, for the first time in years, allowed herself to believe that she was headed somewhere where she could finally breathe.