She nervously fidgeted on the worn wooden bench, staring at the board that would direct her to the track of her departing train. Almost everything that was important to her was stuffed in a duffel bag, bursting at the seams. She had opted for the train because it allowed her to disappear: no passport or ID needed. Just cash for a one-way ticket.
Fingering the wad of bills that she had unearthed from under the back porch, she thought of her new life ahead. Over the past months, with regular skimming from her weekly grocery allowance, it had grown to be possibly enough to get her started in a new city, far away from his watchful eyes and terrifying temper. Possibly.
The rows on the board flipped letters. There it was. Atlanta 1:22 train Track 26. Twenty minutes she sat paralyzed, gazing at the track number and destination on the board. She kept staring as the letters flipped again. The train was gone. Maybe next week.
Written for the Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers Challenge #103.
Thanks to Priceless Joy for the prompt and Dawn M. Miller for the photo.
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