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About This Author
I am a 40 year old married mother of two teenage boys. I live for writing, especially romance. Love the happily ever after scenerio. The best thing about writing for me is the ability to lose yourself in your work, and feel as if you've accomplished something great. At the end of the day, that's all that really matters.
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Passing Trains Passing Trains
She sat down wearily, her small bag heavier somehow than it was a week ago. She wanted to get back to her apartment and sleep in her own bed. Her father’s funeral had taken its toll on Elizabeth, and she was desperate to be alone.
As the train began to pull away from the station, Elizabeth reached into her bag and pulled out a magazine. She really wasn’t interested in it, but hoped it would occupy her for awhile.
She looked up and saw a young boy, no more than 12, fascinated with the scenery. His brown eyes were wide and a slight smile was on his thin, red lips. As Elizabeth watched him, she couldn’t help thinking he was familiar. He had a small button of a nose, and his complexion was pale.
The boy’s light brown hair was short and swept off to the side, just the way her father wore his. The more she looked at him, the more Elizabeth saw the resemblances to her father. Being an only child, she knew it wasn’t possible that she had a brother out there. Her father never dated anyone after her mother passed.
Her heart began pounding out of control, blood churning in her ears as her mind whirled back to the past. Elizabeth closed her eyes painfully, hot tears welling behind her eyelids. It wasn’t possible, was it? Not after all this time.
“Jason, are you hungry?”
Elizabeth opened her eyes slowly. The boy was smiling up at his mother, his white teeth flashing. “No. This is really cool, Mom.”
Hearing her son call another woman, ‘Mom’ took her breath away and gave her an ache deep in her chest.
The woman looked over at her as she sat down, her face instantly paled. Recognition was there.
WC: 299, excluding title |
© Copyright 2007 Purple Wishing WDC Happy 24th (purpleprincess at Writing.Com).
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