Melbourne Train Girl walked between platforms in a misty daze. To her, the vehement cacophony of squeaks and groans from the sculpted roof of Spencer Street (Southen Cross...) station was a beautifully discordant symphony (Melbourne Train Girl's daze was also causing her to think in dramatic and passionate adjectives). She imagined a group of experimental musicians were on the roof, each controlling their own unique squeak. And she imagined that she were the only one in Melbourne privy to the impromptu performance.
They were both early. He had bowed when he greeted her at exactly 4:54pm outside the town hall; a low, sweeping bow. His hand had brushed the dark stone tiles in front of her red shoes. Melbourne Train Girl had laughed. And he had stood, stepped slowly towards her, taken her cheeks in his hands and bent his head to kiss her. She wasn't used to that kind of greeting from someone she had only just met, but she thinks she liked it.
In truth, it didn't feel like they were only brand new friends. She wondered if he were just naturally friendly, or if there was something more between them. She only wondered that for a few seconds though, until she slipped back under her veil of euphoria.
The man sitting next to her on the wooden bench at the station noisily opened a packet of chips from the vending machine. As he lifted a crushed handfull to his greasy lips their familiar salt and vinegar scent filled Melbourne Train Girl's mind. It should have reminded her of childhood; of tiny fingers fumbling with tiny packets. But the veil was too thick.
There had been one third laughter, one third food, one third wine and one third kisses that evening.
(Melbourne Train Girl has no time for maths, but she does have time for kisses that include her neck and ears)
11:44pm. That was when her train back to the city would arrive. They had walked together to the station hand in hand. He had kissed her goodbye, and then the doors to the train had begun to close before she was all the way inside. She had to free her half trapped self, and the train pulled out of the station.
Melbourne Train Girl had smiled and waved out the window.
Wishing just a little bit that she had missed that last train.
And now, as the second train of her journey left Spencer Street Station she sat, smiling, introspective. Staring out of the window, but seeing nothing through the misty haze of euphoria.
