I rode each day, and saw the same fields, fish ponds, and farm houses from my seat on the right side of the train each day. I’d told myself I’d move to the left side eventually, after I’d seen enough of this side, but that was months ago and I hadn’t gotten my fill yet. I heard things out the window were more interesting on that side. But, I had grown fond of my window after all this time, and my seat always felt warm, as if just for me. What if the seat I moved to was cold and uncomfortable? I couldn’t risk that.

Today was cloudy, so the fields of hay didn’t stand out like the wavy blonde hair they usually did. The ponds reflected the clouds though, and in the few seconds of fleeting gazes I could give each one as the train muscled past, I saw the sky above mirrored in them.

I looked to my left, but I didn’t dare look out the window, (I couldn’t ruin it for myself before I finally did decide to sit there, on the off chance that I’d find the right seat.) at the redhead who sat there. She was beautiful, and never said a word to anyone when she got on or off. The only thing I’d ever heard from her was a cough, but it was sharp and stifled. She never looked unpleasant though. Like the Mona Lisa.

I toyed with the idea that if, or when, I decided to move over there, she would let me sit next to her. That way my new seat would be warm. The only question was whether or not she’d give me the window seat. I had to have that.

Her eye caught mine in a lazy sweep to the right. I looked away at once, but looked back when I was sure she wasn’t silently questioning my stare. Still, her expression was impossible to read. I shrugged a little, a mix between an apology and a smile, and turned back to the cattle field on my right. I could still feel her eyes on my cheek.

When I focused on what I was seeing outside, I recognized something I’d never seen before, and it surprised me. There was a great dead tree in the middle of the field the train was passing. I knew it hadn’t been there yesterday, or last week, or last month. It was a new fixture.

My head swiveled gradually as I watched the tree pass out of the frame of my window. It wasn’t contorted and sickly grey as most trees were after baking in the sun without the cover of their leaves. It looked simply like all its green had been removed while it slept.

I felt the telltale slowing of the train under me; we were nearing the station. Though explained by the strain of the train’s weight on the breaks, I found myself always questioning why it had to slow down so far from its stop to get there on time.

I wondered if tomorrow I would have the audacity to sit beside the beautiful redhead.

I left the train and was swept away into the herd heading to graze.