A MeetingHe sits alone. Smoking his last cigarette on the train. Fumbling with his camera. Not too many people take the train these days. But he does. And so does she.
She's skinny and lanky. She wears clothes that are far too big for her. They drape over her as she pours into her seat on the train. Neither of them move. But the train does. It moves forward, to their destination. Carrying them along.
A man walks by; he taps our man on the shoulder.
"There's no smoking allowed on the train," he says.
So our man sighs, and puts out his last cigarette.
"Don't be so down, it's a nasty habit anyway." He says.
Our girl looks up, curious, but she does nothing more. After all, there is nothing more to do. She grabs her book out of her bag and she begins reading. But she's not reading the book. Instead there's a clipping inside. That's what she's interested in. Just that clipping.
After a while, our man asks about her book. She confesses.
"So then what's that clipping about?" he as