One-Way Ticket

After passing through the forest, I saw the sea.

A sea that kept rising in the distance, until it had even become the backdrop of the moon. Moonlight, milky-yellow as if fermented, poured down upon the water. A few slender birds were pecking at it, their feathers also the color of the moonlight.

The wind was tender and languid, stirring the shadows of the trees. The stars were scattered and few; together with a small patch of broken cloud, they were all washed onto the train window by the sound of water. The waves came rushing toward me, then drew back, then were drowned in the train's advance.

There was no one to share this view with me.

The night had deepened, and everything had grown slow.

Except for time. She has never once waited for me.