it’s storming today and i’m going to try to take photographs. the water is choppy and rough. the water is choppy. it has the texture of crumpled paper.

i imagined i saw rachel’s brother on the train. i got up from my seat and sat across from him; he was sitting in one of the seats next to the doors. i said, “you know the sears tower is the tallest building in the world?”
    he said, “really?” kind of sarcastically.
    i looked out the window behind him and continued, “on a really clear day, you can see it from miles and miles away.” i kept staring out the window. “sometimes i wish i was traveling and doing nothing but seeing. but i know that once i’m out there i’ll wish i was in the city riding the train and looking out the window.”
    he didn’t say anything. he hadn’t said a thing the whole time. i finally looked at him. and he just stared back, emotionless. it’s hard to believe that people who display no emotion are feeling nothing inside at that same moment.
    we sat there for a moment, i don’t know how long. i got up and walked away.

there are times on the train when you look up and notice you are at your stop and it only felt like minutes. forty-five minutes is a long time to travel, to ride home. but recently i haven’t noticed. i don’t even recognize half of the stops to rachel’s house. i never took notice.