Echoes of the Heart
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 The last Passengers (Prose)
On her way to work
she saw him
at the train station,
slumped on a bench
looking haggard
wearing a frown
sadness in his eyes
evident . . .
At work,
his image haunting her
a pathetic profile
she wished to comfort . . .
Work extended
to a late night meeting.
She can't concentrate,
her mind with him
there's something
she can't decipher  . . .
After work,
she didn't use the company car
but took the same train
hoping to see him again.
The bench was empty,
a pang of remorse
crept within . . .
The train door
 half way closing,
she glimpsed a figure
coming in.
It was him!
She whispered with glee.
Seated himself
last at the back
as she watched,
he caught her eyes
and locked . . .
She felt embarrassed
as he smiled,
impolite to ignore
If she might . . .
She got off
preceding him
at the end station.
A stolen glance back
showed his face
wearing the same fašade
in the morning
where he sat . . .
She couldn't bear it anymore
so she asked,
"Where do you go from here?"
"I don't know," he uttered.
She couldn't figure out why,
as she cast an inquiring look
at his teary eyes
when he supplied, "I'm looking
for my pretty girl
I abandoned
Years ago."
Stunned, she asked
for further details . . .
He narrated, she listened.
Following a brief silence,
she told him
amid choking sound,
"That pretty girl
is now a gorgeous lady,
and she's me!"
Arms automatically flew,
they hugged in total silence
his shoulders shaking,
tears flowing in stream. . .
From a not far distance
a voice came in,
"The last passengers
are still hugging."
The guard all the while
watching them;
they laughed,
hand in hand they walked
past the guard closing the station.
She brought him home
without further question.
In memory of a father's death anniversary who past away 29 years ago, a year after father and daughter found each other in a most special ordinary way. . . . he was 65, and she was then 25. They were separated by fate for 20 years, and daughter's instinct brought them back together.


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