Nina stood on one foot, and then the other. The train was three minutes late. She could not afford to miss one second of the project meeting in New York.
Knowing that the regular train sometimes got stuck at some godforsaken station on the way, she purchased a ticket for the more expensive high-speed Acela, which gave her an hour fudge time.
Peering at the watch on her wrist, she figured she now only had 55 minutes of fudge time. Continue reading
I take the train from Boston to Delaware to visit my mom. Anything is better than flying, I figure. Plus, I can watch the pastoral East Coast scenery whiz by, in my romanticized notion of riding the rails.
I pack five books, my laptop, and three short story rough drafts. After all, I have more than six hours to write or read with no interruption.
Heaven!
When was the last time you rode a train? Do you remember the bouncing and jouncing, the rolling and jerking one mile to the next to the next…?
roughwighting 