NYC, July 24, 2017, 8:30 am Departure.
9:02 am: The City lies under a blanket of fog. The world turns. The train moves forward. I am stuck. Moving yet not.
9:18 am: I am neither mover nor shaker. I move in no circles. Excepting for the one encompassed by my rut. Stuck.
9:54 am: Gray skies. Raindrops streak the train window. Towns pass in a blur. Steeples. Flags. Lakes. Gloomy all.
10:53 am: The train stops unexpectedly. A breeze sways the leafy branches. There's a chill. I await the arrival of Dementors. Trepidation.
11:09 am: The train sits powerless, silent but for the sound of breathing. The air is still. Waves ripple beyond the glass. Waiting.
11:49 am: The boats bob up and down on the turbulent sea. Anchored in place. Sails folded. Rainy days in seaside towns. Sad.
12:05 pm: The broken ruin of what used to be still stands proudly on the hill. Oh, to stand that proudly, even now, as broken is how I feel.
12:32 pm: "Maybe u can't connect because u're not as funny, stylish, or clever as u think u are," he said to himself. "And u're kinda cold.”
12:59 pm: As the condensation continued to fog the windows I began to wonder, "Is this a reflection of my mind?"
Boston, July 24, 2017, 1:07 pm Arrival