May 30, 2021
3 min read
When Everything Stops
Flash fiction
It is all very specific, all very calculated. I must be at the train station by 6:30 am to get a decent parking space. Seven minutes is the most grace I can get. I’ve timed it. The train comes at 6:50 am sharp and I get on, always in the quiet car. These days I’ve decided to sit in the backward-facing seats just for practice. There could be a crowded morning and my equilibrium was thrown off that one…
