reflections in a window

Snapshot of a girl on a train. She’s laughing and squirming and tickling and taking pictures of her and the boy next to her. Pictures up the nose, pictures down the shirt. Pictures of the two of them together. They are the picture of a happy couple.
But something is off, and though they are very clearly and distinctly on that train together, with eachother and on eachother and into eachother, they are also oddly distant and sad. And her face is wet...strange random quiet tears that seem to present without pattern or cause… The moment lacks context. They lack promise.

They are in the long death rattle of saying goodbye and it’s clingy and sad and sweet and confusing and exists in a moment outside of time. It’s an echo of everything they imagined and wanted and worked for, and this shadow is such a deep grey that sometimes you almost get a glimpse of something solid,something real, but in the end, like a reflection in the window, when you look too close you lose the image and what is on the other side is what is actually there, the image is behind you and there is something entirely distant, something outside it’s self, waiting on the horizon.