Terminal: [Start to Stop]

Rhythmic rumbling.

Up and down, up and down, up and down.

Handles sway to the tempo.

Left and right, left and right.

Stars fall from the ground.

Rumble, rumble, rumble.

The road leads up.

She sits opposite of him, back facing the front.

Hands on the armrests, head tilted back, blond eyelashes fluttering against cheeks.

Their legs don’t touch.

Her voice is barely a whisper when she speaks.

”Sometimes,” she starts, “I wonder where this train leads to.”

He does too.

“Why did I get on in the first place?”

He wants to know too.

“Will it ever be my turn to get off?”

He doesn’t want to.

The carriage is quiet again.

Rumble, rumble, rumble.

Stars fall from the sky.

Her eyes are a dull green; his reflection doesn’t show in them when she speaks.

“I've come to a conclusion."

The road leads left.

"I don't need to wait anymore."

Her eyes open.

"I'll get off on my own at the next stop."

Rumble, crumble, stop.

The stars are still.

A mere shadow.

Peripheral.

Not even the glimmer of a star, or the weight of a grain of salt, a speck of dust.

Superficial.

What do you live for?

Who am I?

What is my purpose?

Where am I?

What is the purpose of living?

Why am I —

Someday, the stars will take your sadness away.

Droning reverberations.

Left and right.

Echoing shadows.

In and out, in and out.

Stars sway to the tempo.

Crumble, crumble, crumble.

The road leads down.

Resonation.

Someday, the stars will take you away.