For reasons unknown, the train stopped.
It was evening, and I was heading home. The day had been dreary — dark clouds, winds, periods of heavy rain followed by mist. Were it not for the overcast skies and the rainfall, the day might’ve been brilliant; temperatures hovered near seventy, even this morning.
When the train arrived, I took a seat on the last car, opened up my bag, and pulled out the mystery novel I started reading yesterday. Rain began to fall against the car’s windows.
A few miles south of the office, south even of the Baltimore Beltway, the train crosses a lake.
For reasons unknown, the train stopped on the bridge.
Rain fell, and I watched as raindrops made concentric circles of splashes in the water. A light breeze kicked up some waves, giving the appearance of some chop.
We sat there for three or four minutes, and then the train moved again.
Perhaps there was a herd of deer standing on the tracks. I don’t know.
It was peaceful, sitting on a bridge, watching rainfall.