They Threw Her Off The Train At Ivybridge For Sobbing In Her Sleep

She was sitting at the front of the carriage,
with a little lapdog on a folded blanket
upon the seat next to her.
The train jerked to a halt
at the country station of Ivybridge.
The Ticket Inspector
stooped and picked up the travel bag
from down by her feet,
banged the lit-up ‘Open’ button
by the top side of the door,
stepped out and put it down
upon the platform, returning instantly.
“You need to exit the train, madam,
and wait for the next one,
it’ll be here in 45 minutes.
Or call someone and arrange
an alternative mode of transportation.
Maybe the intervening time
will give you a chance to compose yourself.”
“I don’t understand? What have I done?”
“You are obviously distraught
and upset about something…
but, your ‘Misery’ is unsettling
and bothering the other passengers.
It’s a Bank Holiday weekend
and most people have picnics
and sandcastle building to be looking forward to.”

Paul Tristram is a Welsh writer who has poems, short stories, sketches and photography published in many publications around the world. He yearns to tattoo porcelain bridesmaids instead of digging empty graves for innocence at midnight; this too may pass, yet. Buy his books Scribblings Of A Madman (Lit Fest Press); Poetry From The Nearest Barstool; and a split poetry book The Raven And The Vagabond Heart with Bethany W Pope. Read other articles by Paul, or visit Paul's website.