![]() ![]() As a child in the suburbs of Washington, D.C., she’d taken a season of riding lessons at a public stable. She was afraid of horses and didn’t like their imperial bearing. Tugging her suitcase upstairs, Marie fought a strange and sudden wish that it would transform into a horse and she’d gallop away. She handed over money and her passport for safekeeping, and was given a key to the room. ![]() To everyone’s surprise - for it was during the Edinburgh Festival Fringe - there was a bed available in the women’s dorm. She walked in and asked if there was room. Christopher’s Inn - she wondered if he was a saint of travelers - and its lighting showed the outlines of what Marie assumed would be, in daylight, a building of grimy sandstone. She didn’t want to be the last one left, staring up at the departures board, so she followed a blue dot on her phone out of the station, till she reached a blue-lit hostel sign. The station was losing its London passengers. But she hadn’t figured out the hundreds of steps it would take for her to reach him.Īll shall be well - it went - and all manner of thing shall. It involved the man she thought she’d once loved, who must right what he’d done wrong. Her dreamlike ways had once again set her down in a strange city without much of a plan - no, there was a plan, a very clear and important one. Her mind, which had chugged along its tracks so well, now came to a halt. Once arrived in the station and forced to disembark, she longed for the train, the sensation of movement and change. She was dressed in new clothes bought specially for the occasion, and on her feet wore freshly polished brown leather boots. Several times, she got up to go to the bathroom in her excited state, and on each return believed she saw the eyes of other passengers flick up to take her in, admiring, she thought, her wide smooth face, her pale gray eyes. All along, coaxed into being by the smooth motion of the train, Marie’s thoughts took a glimmering, hopeful shape, and she recorded them in a small notebook. ![]() F rom London’s King’s Cross to Edinburgh’s Waverley station, the evening journey of four hours seemed short. ![]()
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