Day two: Part one:

So, this is new. Never had an actual experience on a train - like, ever. Naturally, the first time I step onto to anything that moves like this, and at this type of speed, would especially turn out to be a virgin-like territory.

Being the obvious nervous person, that I've grown to despise and at the same equivalence - love; I dug deep into my long forgotten stash of anti-anxiety medicine, that I found in the bowels of that particularly sturdy purse of mine. Fisting that pill as tight as I my hand would allow, without disintegrating it to bits; I looked around for any type of abandoned drink. Sitting lonesome, on a window seal - bathing in the fast past scenes flurrying by - was a third of a glass of white wine.

I know what may come to your questionable mind, 'what the hell is she doing...mixing booze with a drug?' Well, I'll tellya, since there is literally nothing else to gulp this hidden - an unexpected treasure - down my drought-like throat, I shall take whatever I can get.

I sat down, casually. As if this were my seat all along; being as inconspicuous as anyone could act. Stretching my right arm along the rim of the window, tracing the elegant curvature of the glass, I took it within my tangible fingers.

Folding my arm back towards me, along with the addition of the wine, I placed the slight peach colored pill upon my tongue; quickly puckering my lips on the glass rim, and swallowing whole.

For a few minutes, everything had gone smoothly - no rough patches of mountains; no wandering people to scope out my existence; I could finally relax (a word, at which usually never traveled out of my mouth) and watch the dizzying places wash by.

Suddenly, my eyes were fluttering themselves. Open - shut - open - shut. Tiredness was an incorrect exaggeration of a word I couldn't cipher through my brain from the lack of semi-consciousness.

I was losing any care for the moment of what and why was this happening. I fell - hard, I will add - deep into a slumber to which I had forgotten how such could felt.

Dreams were always an issue with me. Whether the world was right with me, or I was entering an epic storm of tremendous proportions. I'm sure everyone, now and then, have had their share of horrific tales from dreamland. I mean, look at all the 'out-of-the-ordinary' horror stories brimming with creatures; and such inconceivable incidences, where all who are indulging their intellectual-rich-minds to these stretched-far-beyond from the world of comprehension go, 'huh?'

This was no different. This fantasy had me whipping myself literally as the people I chose to surround myself with - before, taking the initiative to leave with some-what intact dignity - watched, and insisted that I keep popping my rump to the brink of soreness.

From the bleakness of this invidious day-terror, I began awaking slowly and grumpily to gentle shaking on my left shoulder. Soft probing fingers caressing the grey vintages cotton material zipped-hoodie.

"Suga', you need to wake up." The sweetly tone said.

"What did you take?" She added.

Mouth dry, I slightly panicked, thinking I've lost my voice indefinitely.

Seeing the discomfort, I was having with my assumed cracked esophagus, she handed me a bitty bottle of water. It tasted wet, and absolutely great - I couldn't get enough. I swear I drunk the entire bottle within three gulps.

Coming up for breath, I smiled assuring of the pleasant gesture she had shown to me. Accepting anyone's suggested kindness was something I never could get used to; no matter how hard I tried. I'm always uneasy. I'm not sure if that had something to do with the fact, that - I, myself - did pretty much any and all for myself. Never asking for assistance, or help. I basically, in a matter of terms, took care of myself.

So, to witness someone show any valuable human emotion towards me was unusual, and, might I say, down right nonexistent. If this were any other case that I've been wrapped into, the 'nice' gesture turned into a, 'what do I have to do after you do this?' or, 'what kind of a pleasure are you expecting to see from me?' Luckily for me, this specific interaction had no under-lying ultimatum.

So, good for me.

"Is this your stop?" The silver hair man asked who was obviously accompanying her. His hand folding within her fingers.

I had no clue. I hadn't even begun to realize where this 'stop' was. "Where have we stopped?" I asked groggily; propping my left arm in a more pleasant position on the hand rest.

"I believe we have stopped in Jefferson City." He spoke unassumingly.

"Illinois?" I suddenly spurted out, sitting straighter than normal, as I began observing the movement outside. She cooed a bit of a chuckle.

"No, sweetie..." She sang-like, placing her free hand upon my fore-arm. "...Missouri."

She let out the tiniest of giggles of my facial display of disbelief. "Are you a student at WitcLand University?" She simply quizzed.

Considering I'd never been to this city, or this far west, it was safe to assume, I had no idea what school she had referred to; but, to keep things short and sweet and to where I could crawl back into my own subconscious dialogue in peace, I deflected, " No, I decided to take a year off from any college... just till I figure things out." Sixty percent true, with forty percent exaggerated, it was really all I could offer from the topic.

"Bless your heart." She drawled.

I quenched the heavy thrust I felt to up and slap her rosy cheek, as even though I was new to this part of the country, that sentiment hadn't change one bit - she clearly had poured sweetly tea over an intentional insult.

I smiled as condescendingly as I could muster.