Tom waited underneath the stone arch, glancing back occasionally to check the time on the copper clock tower behind him. He clutched the purple orchids he had wrapped clumsily in magenta tissue paper. He exhaled mist and shifted side to side, waiting anxiously for the bell to chime 8 times and for Line 14 to pull up and open its doors.
The steam collected in heavy, thick masses around him, obscuring the tracks and the platform across the way. The hills, tinted with purple, rose to cover the orange-yellow sun that was settling behind them for its daily slumber.
And soon the 14 rolled around the bend as the sun threw its last golden rays into Tom's eyes, blinding him momentarily. When he opened his eyes again, the train was pulling into the station, the front car and many others sliding past him in stripes of blue and silver.
And the engine quieted and the wheels skid to a stop as the blurs cleared into a single set of double doors. The tall glass hinges folded in two and Ann stepped out of the shadows behind the doors.
Her eyes met Tom's, and for a minute they stood still, staring at each other as people blurred past them, hurrying to get on and off the train. And then Ann ran to Tom, prompting him to drop the orchids so he could cup his hands around her face and stroke her sunken cheeks, kiss her slightly crooked nose, wipe the grime from her forehead and brush her frizzy hair away from her muddy eyes.
And after four years she was still the divine creature he had fallen in love with.
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