Settle in for the long ride home

The process of settling down on the train is easy enough, elbowing past the other passengers, some old, some young. You eventually find your seat, thankfully a window seat, and the train is empty enough that you have the row to yourself. You heave your suitcase into the overhead rack and recline down into your seat. It is shockingly clean and comfortable compared to the seats on the metro buses you have had to take since your car was immolated.

You look out the window as the train pulls out of Union Station headed westbound. Above the urban sprawl that the station sits in, you can see the glittering skylines of the city reflecting the afternoon light. You sigh hard and loud.

Once upon a time your dreams of university, wealth, power, and women were tied up in that skyline of shimmering glass and steel. You wanted a corner office up there somewhere, driving fast cars, and living the high life as you thought that you deserved. You thought that if you had enough gumption, enough work ethic, if you were good enough, that you could come out here to the big city, to Chicago, and make something out of yourself.

You busted your ass through high school. You got accepted into university by the skin of your teeth. Then you blew through all your college funds. You blew your one chance at living that life you thought that you deserved of freedom, money, and sexy women and ended up living in a shitty, drafty apartment with a broken radiator instead. And now you’re running away from that failure back to the only place left that will take you. You feel yourself frowning and clenching.

“So it goes.” You sigh and look away from the window. You unclench your jaw and take a deep breath. You sigh again.

“Ticket please sir.” You turn and meet the eyes of the conductor, scanner out, ready to take your ticket. She’s a blonde woman, maybe around 25 or 26 years old if you had to guess, hair tucked tight back in a ponytail, with a cute round face and big expressive green eyes looking quite prim and proper in her blue uniform shirt and skirt.

“What?” You ask.

“Ticket please, sir.” She says again without a hint of humor in her voice.

“Oh, yeah.” You awkwardly fumble for a second to get your crumpled, vomit soaked ticket out.

“Here.” You say, handing over the ticket. It takes but a moment for her to scan it and hand it back to.

“Thank you.” She says as they are off down the aisle, ponytail bouncing and her hips and butt stretching the fabric of her skirt with every step in a way that shows that she has a nice tush on her. You watch her as she goes with an air of longing. You can’t remember the last time that you had the energy to empty your balls, always exhausted with work, never mind empty them inside someone as cute as that. When she’s gone, you take off your jacket and lay it over you like a blanket and try your best to get some shut eye. Despite how early in the afternoon it is, you are still exhausted enough, the train pleasantly warm enough that sleep comes quite easily to you.