The sun bobbed uncertainly in and out of patchy, grey clouds. A harsh wind whipped at the flowing grass and flailing trees. A short line of carriages was tugged gently across the landscape by a gleaming, red locomotive.
One huge, rectangular window in the first carriage reflected a young lady. Truth be told, it would be difficult to describe more from first appearances, for a scratchy, maroon scarf tumbled across the bottom half of her face, while her unkempt hair obscured all else, save for her left eye. This one brown eye betrayed true stress, perhaps even trauma. A deep-set, dark blue line ran beneath it, whilst the lid seemed not to be capable of holding its own weight.
She attempted to shuffle into a different position, visibly wincing as her weight shifted. Her feet, however, came up against something solid in her black, leather duffle bag, and it was all she could do to keep from crying out in pain. As she went for the roll of bandages at the top of her bag, the door to the right of her started to slide open, and she was forced to bundle it hurriedly back in.
The conductor stepped in, his crisp, black suit contrasting wildly with her long, green greatcoat and muddy, grey cargo trousers. He said nothing for a second, expecting his passenger to speak first. When, however, she just stared, wide-eyed, up at him, he broke the silence.
"Hello?"
"Hi." Her voice was little more than a whisper. Both had strong Welsh accents. When she said nothing more, he felt the need to prompt her again.
"Where from, and Where to?"
She stared blankly at him for an instant, before a look of concern crept across her face, furrowing her brow.
"Sorry... But.. It's just.. Sorry, where's the last stop, again?"
One huge, rectangular window in the first carriage reflected a young lady. Truth be told, it would be difficult to describe more from first appearances, for a scratchy, maroon scarf tumbled across the bottom half of her face, while her unkempt hair obscured all else, save for her left eye. This one brown eye betrayed true stress, perhaps even trauma. A deep-set, dark blue line ran beneath it, whilst the lid seemed not to be capable of holding its own weight.
She attempted to shuffle into a different position, visibly wincing as her weight shifted. Her feet, however, came up against something solid in her black, leather duffle bag, and it was all she could do to keep from crying out in pain. As she went for the roll of bandages at the top of her bag, the door to the right of her started to slide open, and she was forced to bundle it hurriedly back in.
The conductor stepped in, his crisp, black suit contrasting wildly with her long, green greatcoat and muddy, grey cargo trousers. He said nothing for a second, expecting his passenger to speak first. When, however, she just stared, wide-eyed, up at him, he broke the silence.
"Hello?"
"Hi." Her voice was little more than a whisper. Both had strong Welsh accents. When she said nothing more, he felt the need to prompt her again.
"Where from, and Where to?"
She stared blankly at him for an instant, before a look of concern crept across her face, furrowing her brow.
"Sorry... But.. It's just.. Sorry, where's the last stop, again?"