Cold, cold, so, very, cold. Cold was the air that seeped into the room, kissing the old man's flesh. Awakened ever so slowly from his peaceful slumber, he would arise from his bed. No light shone in his room, a room full of old memories. Lifeless images, enclosed in elegant cages, lined the shelves and walls with their stories long forgotten. Stuffed animals rested amongst the windows, memoirs of sweet, innocent times long since passed. Cupping his hands together, the old man exhaled short breaths into them. Pulling away slowly, he would feel the warmth his hands desperately cherished before going numb once more. Struggling to his feet, he would move towards the window. Bony fingers from his right hand grasped the curtain that veiled the world …show more content…
With each step, doubt began to plague his mind, unsure of what he was doing and what sort of place this was, even though it felt all too familiar. With each step, the thought that dominated his mind most was that he wanted to leave. At that moment, the train blew a ghastly whistle. A cry, a call, a summon, beckoned all the passengers to board without further delay. The whistle from the stationmaster echoed throughout the station as the old man got onto the train. He couldn't leave now, lest to be trampled by those wanting to board. As he walked the narrow hallway of his assigned coach, the old man would pass several cabins. One cabin, in particular, housed a mother and her child, with the faceless mother reading to her faceless son. Though without an expression, they were sharing the sounds of so much happiness. The book she was reading to her child was of no importance; something about a spider and a butterfly, the old man didn't care to enquire. He was not focused on the story, but more rather the feeling that resonated by the small family before …show more content…
On his face, the feeling of distraught now appeared. His mind uneasy, he began to ask many questions of the surreal nature he had encountered on his morning stroll up until now. With each question he asked, his mind would flash back to his room, and the images that resided on his shelves. With each question that passed, at that exact moment, the images from his room would come into his life once more, showing vibrant memories, what he once had. Like the rising tide, memories came flooding back. There were memories of a young man in his prime, the laughter and times he shared with his friends and colleagues, and the sights and sounds of locations he had been to, and locations he once dreamed of visiting. Above all these memories, would be the time he met his first sweetheart. Recounting the endless days they spent together, and all the pleasant memories he wished would never end. He turned to look at his window with these memories in mind, to the crowded platform. Suddenly, his eyes widened. There, amongst the vast, faceless crowd, was his sweetheart. Her face shone with life and worry for the old man in the train. His heart strings were pulled at such a sight. He was in disbelief, and yet he never felt so happy. To see her again sparked a desire, he wanted to get off this