• I was on a train to Washington, DC. I'm a reporter, my specialty being weddings, and there was a big one going on there. By now, I'm used to riding trains; I travel by one frequently. My friends tell me that it would be easier if I just flew. There are only three problems with that: 1. I do not fly; 2. My company won't pay for a plane ticket(...); 3. I like looking out the windows of a train. I like staring upon the scenery of the landscape that is our country. Yes, things do look fascinating from way up high, but it doesn't do me any good. My nerves get so bad, and that wouldn't be very good if my interview/observations were to be as soon as I stepped off of the plane. The only time I fly is when I'm going out of the country, which is very rare.

    So, during my train ride, I became very hungry while reading about some wedding between a motorcycle rider and a high school sweetheart. The only thing I had a problem with it was the way the article was written. The author did not focus very much on the wedding itself, but the people instead, and what they were wearing. While that is all very good, it is nice to at least try and describe what's going on. The decorations, the cake at the reception, the music. People love reading about that kind of stuff--the reason why I do it.

    When I put the magazine down, rather appalled in a small-scale way, I felt something buzzing in my purse. Reaching down, I pulled out my Sidekick. My hazel-green eyes laid upon an email:
    Remember, the bride is very timid. Do not be so forward with her to the point where she's crying more than she already will be. Be gentle. I know you can do it. xd
    It was from my assistant co-worker, Janice. She doesn't come along with me on these trips; she gets motion sickness very easily. She helps out a great deal though, by researching these people for me. They might not be big stars, but there will be something about them somewhere....There are even those with just a bit too much information...

    Reaching up, I finger-combed through my dark brown hair, before getting a mirror from my purse. When I was convinced that I looked okay, I stood, lightly brushing off my black slacks and green sweater vest. Dropping the phone back into my purse, I headed to the Cafe car of the train. I try to wait until my trip is over to get something to eat, but if I am in desperate need of a snack, then something there will suffice. I had another eight hours to wait, which was something I could not do in terms of eating. I don't really mind the food, it's just that it sometimes tastes over- or undercooked. I really don't want to get sick and not do my interview. The money for the wasted trip would come out of my paycheck, and that will not do. I have bills to pay.

    About an hour later, after eating my soup and watching a bit of a movie in the Cafe, I was back in my seat. I preferred sitting on the inside of the two seats. That way I can lean against the wall of the car and my chair. At this point, I was on my laptop, pulling up an image from my email that I couldn't get from my phone. It was something from Janice, but had nothing to do with work. I found it very funny.

    In the midst of my silent laughter, a man approached my seat, standing in the isle for several seconds before I looked up at him. He had swirly dark brown hair and grey eyes. His skin was a copper complextion--a few shades lighter than myself. His eyes contrasted with his skin...but in the sexiest way.

    "Yes?" My tone was not harsh, but questionable.

    He looked toward the back of the cart, then asked quietly, "Is this seat taken?"

    I was a bit bewildered by his inquiry. Everyone who gets assigned a ticket is also assigned a seat. Maybe he isn't getting along very well with his seating partner. In this car, I was the only one with the extra seat. That was something I was thankful for; I needed some of my things to be right here beside me.

    "No, it's not."

    "May I sit here? I won't bother you."

    I nodded, reaching over and grabbing my purse and knapsack. Gently, I placed them on the floor under my feet. He sat down, looked at me for a brief moment, then leaned his head back and closed his eyes. From where I was next to him, and from his position, he looked very tired. I chose not to stare at him any more, and went back to my email. Now that I was done with it, I pulled up my page on our company website, and started browsing through my files. I wanted to look at a couple of my older articles so that I would have a basis for my new one. I also wanted to see if there was anything I could compare it to. I found one--something I'd written in July the year before. The wedding theme was waves, and it was at a beach. The dress designs had wave patterns and ruffles. It was close to what I would be seeing tomorrow: A surfing wedding theme. All I knew was that the guy was a surfer, and she was a lifeguard. They met because she saved his life from drowning. I found it very romantic, in a sense.

    As I skimmed through the article to refresh my memory of what I'd written, I heard his voice.

    "Thank you."

    Slowly, I looked up at the man. He was still in the same position as the last I'd seen him, but a bit more peaceful. "You're welcome," I told him, and went back to what I was doing.