Finding the Right Rhythm by Dawn Kimberly Johnson (Long)

A few minutes pass, and, out the window, I can tell the train is slowing. I lay my head ag ainst the cool glass as the station draws closer. My excitement and trepidation about this trip kept me from sleeping well last night, so I’m not surprised to feel my eyelids growing heavy again. The rolling rhythm of the train is so soothing as it slows. 

We come to a stop as thoughts of Jake begin to play through my mind: that first time he pulled into the garage in Pooler, the smile of recognition on his face when he ran into me at the bookstore in Savannah a week later, him asking me out, dinner, a movie, our first kiss, our first fuck—he has big ha nds, practiced hands and is very commanding in bed. My eyes come open, and I smile, wondering how thin the walls are at The Plaza. Then a chill of panic slams into me.

“ Shitty trains, always late ”? I sit upright in my seat and..........

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