The Mind Creative OCT 2013
I felt sorry for myself because I had to leave an unfinished conversation.
I wanted to say a lot more to the young man. I wanted to tell him that
he won’t see me around the town; that he would only see me at night
on the little green bench at the station. I wanted to confide in him that
his uncle Fred and the stationmaster knew me very well; that they knew
me not because I am an old inhabitant of the town.
They knew me because I had died, with my family, in that fatal train
crash in 1962.
35