A Train Trip part 2 of 3

She stared at a small speck in the glass of the window. A tiny impurity. She would have to get his attention. And quickly, if she wanted to talk to him for any length of time. It was a while before her stop came, but not long enough to really get to know someone.

The conductor came by, and she showed him her ticked. The man opposite must have shown his ticket too because the conductor nodded and went on, but she did not remember him actually showing a ticket. However, that was not enough to begin a conversation.

Perhaps he liked drawings? She scooted out from her seat and stretched to reach her bag on the baggage shelf. She stretched a bit more, pretending she had difficulty reaching her bag, but he was still looking out of the window. So in the end, she just took her bag, found her paper and pencils and put the bag back on the shelf with no more feigned difficulty. As she sat down, she looked through her drawings and was pleased to find that she had some of the really good ones of Icelandic horses with her. She put a couple on the plastic table in front of her of horses in mid-tölt, then took a new piece of paper and pretended to sketch something.

Excersize or play?

(Photo credit: Haukur H.)

After a while, she could see that it was not working. What was so interesting about the landscape anyway? Everything was withered or withering at this time of year. Autumn was like decay made visible. She dropped her pencil on the floor.

‘Oops,’ she said and bent down to find it. It had fallen right beside her own foot, damn. She pretended looking for it a while longer, but that did not help. When she sat up, he was still looking out the window.

Then the food cart came by and she got an idea.

‘Anything off the cart?’ said the bony woman pushing the cart.

‘Yes, please,’ she said, ‘do you have any tea with cinnamon?’

‘Nope,’ said the woman, ‘just plain old tea.’

‘Oh, a cup of tea then, please.’

The woman poured lukewarm tea into a cardboard cup, received her money and continued through the carriage.

Plain old tea was not what she had had in mind, she frowned. And the man did not even seem to have heard her asking for cinnamon. She considered throwing the tea into his lap. That should get his attention. Then again, he might just be angry with her the rest of the trip. Perhaps she could do something a little less drastic. It would be a shame about those nice horse drawings, but it was all for a good cause. She put her tea on the table, pretended to reach for a pencil and knocked over the cup.

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