The station clock said nine. The December cold accompanied a night that threatened rain and the warm light from a street lamp added hints of sadness to the scene. On the lonely platform, only Marc had reason to wait for the train.
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Circumstances forced him to leave, to leave behind everything that mattered to him, his parents, siblings, friends, his job and, of course, Lucy, too.
How was it possible that such a calm night could precede such a cloudy day?
The latest news collected in the local newspaper was not very optimistic, the situation in the capital had become very tense and it was a matter of days, perhaps hours, for events to precipitate without remedy. A few days before, he had received a certified letter, with an air of solemnity, urging him to "compulsory recruitment in the capital, to serve his country with honor in the imminent international conflict" that everyone feared.
In the midst of the gloom and the tense calm that precedes great catastrophes, he waited for that cursed train, hoping with all his might that it would not finally show up. It would only take a couple of minutes.
The idea of running away, deserting, leaving the suitcase in that same place, running to Lucy's house, proposing to her and escaping together to a place where they couldn't be found crossed his mind. But he wondered if that was the life he wanted to offer her, and he admitted that she didn't deserve it.
He didn't even have the courage to tell her that he had to leave. He met her that same morning and after spending the day together, he took her home, making an appointment for the next day, knowing that she would not come. He left, however, a note in her mailbox, explaining the reasons why he had to leave.
He then returned home, slowly walking through the narrow and steep streets of the town, observing each house, each balcony with its geraniums, each doorway and each window, trying to memorize each roof and each corner. He wanted to remember all these things when he was scared to death in a trench under fire, he wanted to remember the faces of the neighbors he had grown up with, the crisp country air, the smell of freshly baked bread, the cool touch of grass , the sound of the stones jumping over the water and the bells of the hermitage of San Antonio.
He recalled with nostalgia his first forays through those streets, the games in the square, the way to school, his mother's errands, the bike rides and the afternoons with Lucy, when the two of them would lie by the river, drawing with their imagination a future full of happiness.
He was still savoring those moments inside when a sudden fear made him realize that it was possible that those were his last steps through those streets.
He didn't bother to open his umbrella, he wanted to enjoy that purifying rain for the last time, listen to its monotony and feel the caress of the drops on her skin.
His gaze, lost in the blurred horizon, onto which he was projecting his memories, suddenly came across a distant flash that grew until it blinded him. The time had come, the train was approaching at great speed. As if it were the end of a sad movie, the rain joined the farewell, forming a wall of water, as if wanting to stop the impetuous advance of the train. But it was not enough. The convoy made its way without difficulty and began to slow down as it approached the station.
The train finally stopped, Mario collected his luggage, walked to the door and up the steps, found a window seat and plopped down on it. The car was almost empty and the few people in it went unnoticed.
He directed his gaze towards the station, wishing that all this was a dream to end up waking up in nightmare sweats. However, he could hear his nervous breathing and his heart agitated by fear and uncertainty, confirming that this moment was real as life.
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Then he saw a shadow that was transforming into a silhouette and running desperately along the platform, looking through the windows of each carriage. He thought it was some traveler who was about to miss the train, but when he got closer, he observed with astonishment that that small figure, sheltered from the rain with a simple jacket over her shoulders, was Lucy. Surely she would have found the note he had left for her and run off, driven more by her heart than her legs, not caring about the storm or the cold, looking for one last look, one last word, and one last kiss.
Marc jumped to his feet and tapped on the window to get her attention. She stopped on the other side of the glass and their gazes locked. Her tears were confused among the raindrops which slipped kissing her cheeks. He wanted to get out and put his arms around her, but at that moment, the train began to move slowly, resuming its march.
Posted using Proof of Brain