this is goodbye
This is Goodbye
She stands at the edge of the platform, her silhouette framed by the billowing steam of a departing locomotive. The polished leather of her suitcase gleams in the dim, golden haze of station lamps, each flicker catching the restless energy around her. The rhythmic clatter of wheels and the sharp hiss of brakes punctuate the air, mingling with the distant cries of porters and the chatter of hurried goodbyes. She remains still amidst the chaos, a striking contrast to the crowd of travelers weaving through each other like currents in a river. Her coat, cinched tightly at the waist, is the color of midnight, a quiet defiance against the bustle surrounding her. The scent of coal lingers in the air, and the platform hums with life — but she feels untethered, already one step removed from this place.
The train whistles, a long and mournful note, and she ascends the carriage steps without looking back. Through the smeared windowpane, the station becomes a blur of hurried farewells and forgotten belongings. Steam curls in tendrils around the platform, swallowing the remnants of her departure in its ghostly embrace. A child clutches a balloon, a porter drags a cart laden with trunks, and the air is heavy with stories starting and ending all at once. Yet for her, this moment is singular — a quiet severance wrapped in a cacophony of motion. As the train lurches forward, she feels the weight of the unknown pressing on her chest, bittersweet and electric. This is goodbye, but it’s also the beginning.
