It was nine-ten in the morning and the air was cold, the train was running a little late as she and he, stood there waiting. The words that were exchanged between the two were next to nothing. She did not want to leave and had nothing to say. Of course this was due to the fact he wanted her to leave, and was wondering what was keeping the train.

He wanted to go but waited anyway,  not to look bad,  in front of all the other people, waiting with their departing friends or family members. But she was only a second time visiter, he had enough and wanted his time alone back to normal. Where is the train!  Twenty minutes of silent had passed then the whistle blew steam as the train neared the station. They said there good-byes as she kissed him on the cheek, turning and not looking back she boarded.  The only thing in her head was,  don’t cry, he won’t let you back, and don’t turn around,  not to let anyone see he is not watching . . .He left.

On the train she was shocked as to how full it was.  There was no space for the luggage so she pulled and dragged the heavy suitcase along the narrow passage way,  until she wanted to pull no more.  To her left sat the woman who stood outside on the platform, looking at her like she was outdated or something like that. She kept this frown on her face every time their eyes locked.  She was not going to sit there. To her right sat a young man, his skin was of the darker color and he looked up at her with brown caring eyes. “May i sit beside you?”  He smiled. “Yes, certainly, you can”  He sat straight allowing her room and she plopped herself down dragging  the large luggage bag in between the back of the seat in front of her and her cramp up feet under her, then removing both heavy bags, hanging off each,  of her shoulders. She made it on board without crying and was now on her way home to be alone.

On the train, sitting and waiting for the departure. She didn’t even look to see if she could still see him standing on the platform, but as the train pulled out of the station she did look to see if she could see his vehicle. She did not. He was out of there like he had important things to do. Like eat.  And fix something for someone. But mainly to get back to his daily routine. ALONE.

It was minutes later the Ticketmaster came by checking on the new passengers, to see if they all had been seated, as the train started moving on its way.  The Ticketmaster stopped at the girl and asked.” Is everything okay here?” That all depends,  she said. “On what?” He asked. Space, she said. “Space?”  He became confused for seconds then he saw her sitting conditions. “Why did you not put your case away?”  Well it’s all full up isn’t it . She said. “Here, let me take this baggage for you and i will find room.” She pulled her feet in more and was glad to be able to extend. Which of course caused the man sitting beside her, to speak.  And speak he did and so did she. They found out much about each other, enough for the one, to have to kill the other. Wiped out,  one might say. Never to share what they learned. This, only showing you people,  should mind their own businesses and not to ask the wrong questions.

One of them was going to die before the next stop. His home . . .Her home. One of them had a secret that was not allowed out.  But let it out showing courtesy, common respects.  If some one talks to you,  one talks back or not. Should talking be told then certain areas are to remain unspoken of.  But of course we all have persuadable ways, that some people cannot say no to,  and they talk too much, as in this case. To much talk. Some times people are unaware of what too much talk is.{call them what you want},[dummies], as far as it goes in most people’s eyes.. [ Just plain stupid one may say]. But just not to the talker, most of the time,  what they talk about is simple and without prejudice, innocent another may say. But even innocent things often get hurt or maimed or something more horribly than some ones,  Loving life of grief.

All the same, something innocent was going to take place causing a bad reaction, and in the end the innocent dies without knowing what they knew or just on the verge of fully understanding what they learned, before they died.

Death is a horrible thing and at times it is a good thing.  It all depends on the individual, rather ill or innocent. If you understand what i mean.WHICH HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH BEING MURDERED OR KILLED>     TOTALLY DIFFERENT DYING ALL TOGETHER . . .

She became quite comfortable with him,  as he,  became easy with her.  They chatted most of the way to the next station, up until the point, where  of one of them would be leaving the face of the earth on a train. The mistake of the questions,  concerning  art,  came about. Graphic designer, came out of a topic on what each of them did,  as work.  A writer and a graphic designer. They both had familiar interest in each others job description, wow-ing and listening and digging more deep into each others lives, thrilled to find they had plenty in common. It was like one of them were the words and pictures, while  the other, was the designer-printer, sort of speak.  But somewhere along the line going down those tracks,  they trusted each other to speak freely and honest, laughing and funning and learning and everything became calming to her soul  about going home and not cry for her man. She knew deep down she was not of his caliber and would never belong. As this beautiful skinned man consoled her with his words of finding her peace in her crying heart, she understood exactly what she did mean to her fleeing man ransacking,  it out off the train station and away from the platform away from her, and her over due  stay. She even giggled at the thought once. This colored man listened as her crying heart spill out,  when she,  was  indeed finished,  he feed her with words,  of  his cultural beliefs,  causing waves of peace to settle in her and she became just another passenger like everyone else.

This man was indeed wise. The whole time he was on his  iPod,or iphone or what ever you want to call them. He asked lots of questions and she gave honest answers . . .Why not, she was never going to see him again. She did not even think to ask him his name, nor did he offer to know hers.

It was a long ride from Kitchener to Toronto, and that is where they would part never to see each other again, just this one passing as being a passenger on a train like hundreds of others and chatting. What are the chances of ever seeing one another again in this world . . .NONE . . .So talk about anything everything,  spill your guts, they can’t go anywhere, they paid for the seat they are sitting on and non other.  Happy ride.  Should you be so lucky so did she. She felt of all the full places  in the world, she should be proud to sit with this man. But of course like all good things they too come to a halt.   Stop!  Over. End. 

Just as the conductor announced the train would be coming into station in about 10 minutes one of them produced a photograph saying they only took the picture because they found it very offensive. The picture was taken of a wall with graffiti printed across the gray parging. EAT THE RICH. The underlining of these words,  in its self,  did,  feel like a power struggle emanating a code meaning DON”T MESS WITH US feeling, and now that you know of us you can’t stay, feeling.

EAT THE RICH . . .What does that even mean?

• Questions
• Thoughts
• Wonderings

All sorts of things were going through each their minds as they looked deep into one another and asked questions and answered them on EAT THE RICH.

People don’t usually underline words unless they want you to mind them, to heed each word written. To go as far as to spray paint a dot after the line.  Even the more reason to adhere to them. EAT THE RICH. Is this a new world order?

The fun of the questions and chatter had to come to an end, there was about eight more minutes before the train would come to a complete stop letting people off and more on. Time became crucial to one of them. They had to find out if too much was said or not enough and then deal with it no matter the cost. EAT THE RICH. And indeed one of them was rich which one,  the writer or the graphic designer. Another question came out when the cell phone picture was presented. ” So is that your graffiti out there now?” They both chuckled or giggled then looked into each others eyes. The designer chuckled saying. “Yes, yes . . .No that is not mine. I do different designs, i have clients.”  They looked at each other. ” I just showed you the picture because it is disturbing to me and i wanted to know what you thought because you are a writer. The air around each of them became quiet,  it felt serious somehow to each of them in their own way. There was a feeling of betrayal and fright.  And now both sets of eyes glistened with a glossy film. TEARS.

She thought how this man soothed her very being, helping her to understand the man she left at the station had feeling for her of passion,  and,  a lost love that he want to keep,  only in The Love lost united bond.  He helped her to understand that she too wanted to keep him close but do so as a double life never to be able to reconnect but held in a Loving bond where we can always find each other and visit.  And not this.

EAT THE RICH. They both knew the reading had to be explained no matter the cost. They both now knew, these seen words,  are words,  that have to be told,  once seen,  options had to be carried out.

Some words are not  meant,  to be seen. We all know that . . .Henceforth the swat team banging down your door, cause you stumbled onto, into,  something by mistake, or you knew exactly what you were doing all along, and need out now. 

This passenger, was so nice to her giving his time and healing words. He did not like to,  for some reason or other, see her cry. He looked into her soul as he asked his questions and she gave valid reasons,  of a pass Love she ran away from, never to be relieved of the pain in her heart. He could see in her soft cry how she still Carried great Love for this man. He embraced her sorrow and relished in the very though of listening to a story of pure Love being torn apart and coming back together,  he could see this woman, sitting at his side, does not know if she and this man she left at the station are friends.  He saddens at the thought, that she could not tell him what she though she was to this man she Loves. “What does he think of you.”   “What?” “How does this man you Love and visit,  way out here,  feel about you. You must be friends. Yes?” He was astound when she ripped her body around to face the aisle and softly cry. It was maybe ten minutes he waited for her to respond or not. He really thought is was the end of their chatting and he felt he must have done something to make her stop and turn and cry, but what?  He is a man,  and what does he know,  is what,  someone else would say to him.  So he left it at that and continued on with his ipod or iphone or what ever he held.

Time  pulled the train slowly to the under-station and some of the other passengers were leaving their seats to retrieve their small bags from the over-head storage or make their way to the front of the car and take out their luggage bag and stand waiting for the train to fully stop.

It was like simulation when they both took a last look,  at the cell picture and each other, before the picture was swiped away.  

Five minutes remained before hitting the station, then one of them said with a queer look,  on their face,  like a fun joke if you will.

” Now,  what if i was to tell you,  i know you are rich,  and i followed you on this train because you took this picture, and now, i have to eat you.  Eat you because you are rich.  What if this is not a joke. What if you are never getting to where you are going.”

EAT THE RICH   THE END

AND THEN

A strange noise came from behind both of them. They never got off the train.

But let me tell you, you will never find and clues of this or them. But  two people were told, the story would be told.  EAT THE RICH.