The stick man who out ran the train

Anthonys' bring hope

Hot air damped the window of the train, the scenery zooms by. One part it looked like it was going slow, another part it looked like it was going fast. It made it seem like you could walk with the train at the same speed, yet again it made it seem that no matter how fast you run, you could never keep up. Strange how one picture could look like it was going at two different speeds.

Steven sighed again, another circle of condensation on the window, as he drew a stick figure running. He imagined the stick figure trying to keep up with the train. His eyes stared at it, creating a story around the drawing.

The stick figure was a man, a man with a regret of not confessing his love to the woman that sat on this train. The man tried to run with the train, trying to set his mistake right. He would run, run and run some more. In his head, he would rehearse what he would say, he would tell this woman what she meant to him. And then they would probably kiss, because she would cry and tell him she loves him too. That is how love stories normally went. Steven scoffed and cleaned the window with his sleeve.

Love. Bullshit.

Love never went like that. It never went that easy. It never went "I love you" with some dramatic story what made them fall in love, what they liked about them. And you could never expect the other to answer with, "oh I love you too" and then you two would kiss. It doesn't go like that.

It goes with awkward conversations, awkward answers. With regrets, with silence, with rejections and depression. Love never goes in the way, it ends with heartbreak and tears. Awkward friendships are the end results.

Sure, Steven believed that occasionally love could happen. But not with him. Never with him. He had enough rejections, heartbreaks, awkward friendships to last a life time. He wanted no more. He didn't want the stress, the tears, the disappointments. He wanted freedom, the happiness the life of the single gave.

His mother complained to him of course. She wanted grandchildren. Little tiny feet pitter-pattering around the house again. But she always wanted her son to be happy. To know that other than bad relationships that there where good ones. Whenever he visited her, she would say it, trying to paint the love pink. He would give her a smile before directing to a different subject.

The train hissed as it stopped at the next station. He quickly gathered his stuff, cursing his daydreaming for missing that he was nearly at his destination. New York City. His next stop of his long travel, a visit of a few months because of his job. He would stay at his friend, of course paying him rent. He was glad that he had a place to stay. With the money he would earn for this job he could comfortably live for another year without to worry about payments to much. Being a freelancer both in writing, art and ICT was something that could give a lot of stress but also a lot of freedom. Occasionally he would have some big jobs in faraway city's that lasted a month to a year. He would have a steady in come of money and with the money he earned from his paintings and books, he had no right to complain about his 'death schedules', like his friends called it.

John stood in front of the station, smiling his biggest smile as he waved at Steven in a childish way. Steven laughed, slapping the grabby hands away before he gave in and hugged his friend. "How was the ride?" John asked him, the other shoulder shrugged. "Fucking long." John laughed loudly, holding his stomach. "We all warned you to take the plane, but noooo mister artist wanted to go by train. Because. Because."

"Because it gives me inspiration." Steven helped his friend finish his sentence. John chuckled, slamming the back closed after all the bags where in the car. "What kind of new ideas do you have now, mister artist?" John teased him. "Nature, family things. Little things but also big help. And." Steven fell in silence, biting his lip as he thought back about his last inspiration. John knew that silence. He knew it all too well, but he didn't press it. He didn't try to cheer up Steven with the lies of "you will find love" and that bullshit. John understood the things Steven went through, he has been through it himself. The silence remains in the car, but not the awkward silence, it was a comfortable silence of understanding. John watched the road, occasionally complaining about other drivers reckless driving. Steven took the time to study John.