Only the Lonely

On holidays, travelers avoid the trains. The sunlight seeps in through the windows and casts flickering shadows upon the surface of the vinyl of the empty seats. On holidays, the seats do not get covered in the sticky sweat that is transferred from the backs of the knees of the worker bees Monday through Friday.

On the holidays, only the lonely travel the trains.

She steps on quickly and doesn't look around. She takes her choice of bench, in the back, so she can focus her eyes on the dance floor where the sunlight is performing the Labor Day Waltz. She thinks about being somewhere else, because when the trains are dead, the whole world must be celebrating.