GRACE WRITES FICTION || SHORT FICTION

The Train To The City-A Clandestine Afternoon

A tryst with a twist — a fictional story — Janine Nº1

It’s me, Grace. Original image from unsplash+ altered by the author

At precisely 7:56 a.m., Charles Howser got into his car to drive to the train station. Two minutes earlier, he had kissed his wife and son goodbye. He inhaled that baby smell deeply but wondered why his wife wore her polka-dotted dress.

He wondered so hard as he backed out of the driveway that he nearly ran over Mrs. Witt and her tiny, yappy dog. Today, of all days, he could not be late for the train.

Charles sat in his usual front-facing seat by the window. He slipped his ticket in the metal holder at the top of the seat and turned his attention to the scenery — the same view, every day. Rolling meadows and dormant farmland dotted with new construction gave way to gritty, graffiti-sprayed tunnels and the dank, dark underground of the city.

Streaming sunlight greeted him as he made his way up the station stairs. There was the usual morning jostling. Harried patrons going down the up staircase with purposeful confusion. Regularly irritated, he had no time to think about that today.

His assistant was not at her desk, so Charles entered his office and closed the door. This morning, he had ledgers to review and a report to edit. He glanced at his watch, then the clock on the wall, and back to his watch again. “I must leave at 12:45, he said to no one in particular, 12:45.”

Charles did not show emotion. He had little use for that. Once Charles made up his mind, he rarely thought about it again. Afterward, he didn’t relive an experience nor think about how he could have done things differently.

The everyday life of Charles Howser did not show cracks. Before the surface could roil, he channeled his desire so that it would not bubble to the surface for a long time. He felt no guilt. He felt entitled.

Today was such a day. At precisely 12:45 p.m. he rises from his desk, folds his suit jacket over his arm, and heads for the elevator. It is only a 5-minute walk to his favorite, small hotel at 56th and Madison. Charles does not use the elevator; he walks up the stairs. He enters room 203, the same room he always reserves, to wait for her.

Sometimes, he meets the same woman for months, but someone new will arrive this afternoon. By design, they have only ‘met’ through whispered phone calls, passion building for weeks. Until today.

At precisely 1:00 p. m. there is a soft knock on the door. Charles smiles. He slowly walks to the door and opens it. There stands his wife in the polka-dotted dress she wore this morning.

© Grace Notes 2024

You can read the continuing adventure here:

[embed]The Road Is Calling, Adventure Awaits Tales on Tuesday — Janine Nº2notesofgrace.medium.com

[embed]The Pink Haze Diner A very hot cup of coffee - a fictional story — Janine Nº3medium.com

[embed]The Window At The Diner Table Nº1medium.com

I’m not perfect, but I’m perfectly myself.

Grace🎶