Fellow 2: Train

“I’m Paul,” he said.

The train lurched forward. Outside, the river bent, just as he’d remembered. train fellow 2

For the next train fellow , the note said. “I’m Paul,” he said

I stared. Then took the apple. Then laughed—because he was right. Because in all those wordless trips, he had been noticing. And so had I. His habit of tapping his ring on the armrest when the train crossed a bridge. The way he always saved a seat for someone who never came. the river bent