Friday, 17 April 2015

Getting Off the Train.

As the train pulled up, Wendy stood and watched the steam shoot over the platform, wetting the cement a little. Wendy picked up her camera, peering at each passenger as he jumped or stepped off the train. She wanted to find the best individual to take a picture of.
The last person to step off the train took her time. As she swung her body away from the door and placed a heeled boot onto the platform, Wendy squeezed her finger down on the shutter of her camera. The lady froze into place on Wendy’s screen.
I found this picture on Pinterest.
Her other leg still stood on the edge of the train’s aisle, so the lady’s position was a little tilted. Her umbrella was placed on the platform nearby her foot. It wasn’t being used as a support, but merely as a sophisticated accessory, resting against the wet cement.
Wendy glanced at the lady’s attire. She was wearing a black skirt, and ruffles poked out from the v-shaped edges of her jacket. The wide hat that hid a little of one of the lady’s eyes was gauzy and trimmed with black. It Wendy had to choose two words to describe the lady in her snapshot, she would pick “elegant” and “poised.”
Sitting down on a bench, Wendy folded her lips inwards. Now she had to imagine up a story for this lady. Maybe she was going to be a governess. Or maybe she was a lady with a stylish career in front of her, arriving to start a new part of her life. Maybe she was even a woman gangster, behind a giant scheme of some kind.

The lady came out of the station and Wendy got to her feet. Walking over, she gave the lady a hug. Maybe, though, instead of all those other things, the lady was Wendy’s mother.

No comments: