A queer, femme, literary liberal. I am passionate about storytelling, both fiction and nonfiction, with lapses into autofiction as we are wont to do. I aim to see the humor in any situation. Let us laugh our way to the gallows.
The Forgotten Train
I awoke to a shrill shrieking noise. My head jolted so quickly as to ruffle the brim of my hat. With no idea how long I’d been asleep, I stood collecting myself as I prepared to intervene, only to lose my balance as the ground moved under me. I realized, or perhaps one cannot call it a realization so much as its opposite: that I had utterly no clue where or who I was. I was in a classic-looking railway car, and I had fallen to the ground like a babe from the womb in the hands of a particularly unqualified doctor, yet I stood again: a full-grown woman. I looked at the booth across from me, where a couple seemed not to have noticed my fall. I patted myself down and was quite pleased with what I found. I must have been some sort of athlete or builder, perhaps I was even military. My confidence became reinstated and my tight suit no longer uncomfortable.