TriQuarterly, September 22nd, 1995
The waiting room is totally empty. Oddly enough, the chairs are very present. When the alarm rings he stretches out his arm, pushes the button before opening his eyes. The sign says: it is forbidden to walk on the tracks. Danger of death. Thunder grumbles, red-glowing embers, only half a cigarette remains. They live above, they live below, they meet at intersections without seeing one another. The train is about to leave, he runs down the platform mumbling incomprehensible words. She hangs the laundry on the line. The sheets smack in flight toward a windy sky. The bird flutters its wing...
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