Received this in my email inbox from Chaba’d, which can be described as a Jewish Evangelical organization. The message would appear more universal, however, to those of us who sometimes have doubts about whatever is most important, possibly other than immediate family, in our lives, be it our railroad hobby, our professions, or indeed religious belief of any denomination and whatever rituals it requires.
AT THE TRAIN STATION
This is my story.
Not all of it, of course. That would blow your mind. Just a small piece, a sliver, a taste, just enough to open your eyes and shatter your walls.
Who am I? Well—sit down. Lean back. And listen.
This story begins in a train station. It’s one of those small ones, the ones with only a few trains that you just know are filled with people going out and empty of people coming back, the building still modern and classy in a desperate attempt to conceal that it’s a dying relic of bygone days. People are bustling about, moving back and forth. Near the back, nearly unnoticed, sits a man in black.
Interesting though, even though the great age of the passenger train is over the author still set the story in a train station. Makes sense, somehow I don’t think it would have worked if it was set in a airport.
Firelock you are “one of a kind” = you filled out your profile! am amused that so many do NOT I have several questions to ask of SOMEONE we are a “brothear of a sort” retired military USAF/ArkansasANG could you email? mikew@grnco.net THANKS ENDMRW0630161141
[quote user=“Firelock76”]
Great story David, thanks for posting it!
Interesting though, even though the great age of the passenger train is over the author still set the story in a train station. Makes sense, somehow I don’t think it would have worked if it was set in a airport.