Ken Brady Another step. And another. A series of stranger and stranger coincidences as he nears the front of the train. He pauses.
The front of the train feels suspended, slow, as if hanging over a single point, not sure where to go, or where it's been.
He thinks he could stand here. Safely. No bullets, no bolts, no boomerangs, no bamboo. A comfortable, quiet space.
The silence is everything. The stillness. It's like a force in and of itself. His thoughts begin to cloud. This is way too easy.
He decides to go back and do it again. He thinks, why not? The train crumbles around him like it had never been there. -- END --
