So... I've started again. This is just the beginning, and I am working on it. But I thought you'd be pleased. I will post the rest when I finish, which will probably be over the weekend.
- Jonathon
Moses woke at exactly 6:27 PM to the very distinct sound of train brakes. The high pitch screech of steel on steel, Moses thought, was enough to roll Hoffa over… wherever he was. He rubbed his eyes and ran his hands through his hazel hair, worn long during the winter, and attempted to look out the window he had been recently using as a pillow. The window, long fogged over with condensation from the clash of his breath against the cold glass, was lit in a fiery glow. Moses wiped the window with the sleeve of his jacket and watched the sun set over some indiscernible town in what he could only guess was either Ohio or Indiana. Having been asleep for several hours now, he had no idea. Looking to his right, he saw an older woman, possibly in her seventies, wearing an outfit that slightly resembled what Moses believed the Queen of England might wear on an afternoon outing. Maybe it was just the small round hat.
“American women don’t wear enough hats these days,” he muttered aloud.
The woman looked over at him and smiled. She must have heard him say something, but obviously had no clue as to what. He nodded to her and turned back towards the window. A cracked voice came over the PA system.
“Waterloo station, next stop,” the voice said.
Moses began searching the pouch in the seat in front of him. He hoped to find a map, but only retrieved a coloring book undoubtedly left by a child who occupied his seat at another time. He looked across the aisle to the elderly woman and asked, “Excuse me. Do you know where we are?”
The woman looked back at him and replied, “Excuse me?”
“Do you know where we are?” he asked.
“I beg your pardon,” she replied.
Moses, now getting slightly agitated, raised his voice, gesticulating towards the septuagenarian in hopes of getting his point across. “DO. YOU. KNOW. WHERE. WE. ARE?”
“Ah, yes,” she answered. “We are in Waterloo. Did you not hear the man on the box?”
Moses sighed a deep breath of frustration. “Where is Waterloo?” he asked.
“What?” the woman replied, craning her neck towards him.
This was quite enough for Moses. “Never mind,” he said to the old woman, squinting and shaking his head.
“You look like my grandson,” stated the woman, with a smile.
“Yeah?” Moses asked. “Well you look like the queen!”
Feeling satisfied that he had “showed her,” Moses then turned back to his window and began thumbing through the coloring book. After a several pages of lines that had clearly been colored outside, he tossed the book into the seat beside him.
“What are they teaching kids these days?” he asked himself.
