The tan train pulls up at midday, with the sun slightly setting. The green curtains rattle and the inside is dark, mixing well with the grey skies above. The train pulls to a halt and people exit the carriages in a quickened pace. Luke is standing on the bronze platform, unmoving, forcing people to walk around him, tugging at the cuffs of his brown blazer. He reaches into the pocket of his trousers, colored the same as his coat, and produces a golden pocket watch. He checks the time, looks up, slips the watch back into his pocket, and continues to fidget with his coat. Rosaline is last to exit the stalling train. Steadily emerging from a cloud of ash-colored smoke, her long, red petticoat is the first to appear, the golden buttons shining from an unknown light. She approaches Luke and sets down her two suitcases, one in each hand, on the ground. The two handles fall and hit the tops of the suitcases, making a faint sound that is heard throughout the station.
“Hello, Luke,” she says.
“Hello, Rosaline.”
“What happens next?” she asks after a short pause, accompanied by the lighting of a slender cigarette and a slow drag.
“Well,” he replies, “it depends on if you love me or not.”
“I don’t,” she says, through a puff of smoke.
“Then we shall take a yellow taxi to my hotel room and sleep together.”
“Hello, Luke,” she says.
“Hello, Rosaline.”
“What happens next?” she asks after a short pause, accompanied by the lighting of a slender cigarette and a slow drag.
“Well,” he replies, “it depends on if you love me or not.”
“I don’t,” she says, through a puff of smoke.
“Then we shall take a yellow taxi to my hotel room and sleep together.”
