'An October Morning'
Her image fluttered in the breeze, swayed with the morning mist, and imprinted itself upon my memory. In that moment, I could not think of anything else. The empty station, the chill of the October dawn, the silence emanating from the walls - these details rose to my mind with a throb much, much later. I wondered then if in later days I would still remember how she felt in my arms.
Now I know. The last of her breath is slipping away from my embrace. Her warmth is now a phantom around my body, receding with the slow pace of the train which bore her away from me. And I am left alone, contemplating the grey inevitabilities of a distant relationship.