The metal bench where he sat was cold, logical, as the month of February. And the color was gray, not the bench, but air. He was at the station, watching the gray air, suspended while waiting for a train that was late forces or maybe not, almost could not remember the time of departure. It was there already for quite a while but only recently decided where to go and the ticket he had purchased with hesitation, as every time who was in having to do it: he felt obliged to make a decision, but at the same time driven by the desire for freedom that attacked like a wild beast in those moments. Some mysterious moments whispered "you see ... is what you do." Even when she did not. So here it is sitting slightly shaking from the cold, at 10 am, when the station that places little frequented, except by students and workers, was nearly empty. He brought his gaze on one of the many clumps of grass between the rails, metallic and semi-burnt, thinking of what would have been different at other times of the year. The rocks scattered between the rails and over the tracks themselves, a sad and desolate countryside. Sleepers, solid and well planted, the length of the rails, the void around them ... that, soon, he would become darting, was a flight, he would lose the current size of the sad and melancholy stillness. Go.
This took it, the desire to go remote. But did not really want to do. Move and walk, and change things to look at faces to see, people to talk to. Although this was not, in fact, to urge them to move, the very fact of being able to breathe new smells of people, the thought of being able to hear different voices from mouths ... perhaps more interesting to decide not to have to, if she did not, was an irresistible temptation when he took it. Had happened very often that the lure to drop everything and leave came after a bad fight, or a delusion, or simple boredom of everyday life. But in those cases was stopped. Stagnant with the same mind lucubrate fixations of all time, to turn and turn over the desperate reality of not being able to get out. These were queues at the counters of railway stations abandoned, dusty and frightening ... these were trips that could not be done, because they lack essential element at the start: the intent.
While this time, she sat at the usual bench, waiting, because during the night someone had gently suggested it was time to go. It was time to take advantage of the opportunity to be alive. He had his feet a half-open backpack decorated with leather fringe and frayed, with its top open, seemed to have a baby next regular who did not let anything, not even during his short trip. Instead the only thing was that every time the company was this old bag. He smiled, however, there was still so fond of and hoped would last. The whistles of the train reached the distant but clear.
So he rose from the bench, mending his coat and pulling down his hat to protect from frost. He picked up the bag and closing it for good, after placing in the right arm as he did when he was a student, went to the track that interests you with your hands tucked in his pocket.
After only ten minutes already traveled. He felt light and smiled. He wondered whether, in fact, happiness was just that.
* * GiorgiaM
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