Tears ran down her cheeks as she stood on the busy quay of “Gare de l’Est”
and waved goodbye to him.
He looked at her through the train window without any show of emotion,
waived back and took the seat facing me.
She kept sobbing and blew a couple of kisses towards the window,
but he did not see her do that.
He was too busy rearranging the luggage around his seat.
The train started moving in the fog and I lost sight of her.
Out of the fog another vision entered my consciousness,
right out of the deep recesses of my memory:
She looked at me as I was ready to drive my car.
She had my red flannel shirt on.
I could see the tears running down her cheeks,
as she waved goodbye.
I looked at her through the window of my car without a show of emotion,
but my foot refused to press on the gas pedal.
I shut the car engine off and looked at her again.
She looked so beautiful in my red flannel shirt.
I rolled down the window and asked her in.
We kissed passionately for a while,
then headed back to my place.
The train whistle startled me and brought back from my reveries.
I looked up at him.
He was calmly reading a paperback novel.
Outside, the fog started to dissipate,
and the golden sunshine slowly warmed up the frigid air.