The last train

Maria had finally arrived at the train station and was facing a dilemma.

Should she board that train? Where would it take her? Would she see the same streets that had seen her grow up and had been part of her? She knew for sure that she wouldn't.

That station was a gateway to another world, a path of no return that would take her far away. The girl held the train schedule sheet with a trembling hand and looked to see how much time was left until the next train departed. Was it 30 minutes? Was it 3 hours? It didn't matter; any waiting time felt like an instant.

It seemed like life was passing by her like a flash of lightning.

Then, she allowed herself the luxury of looking back for a moment to once again contemplate those street lamps, those sidewalks, and those trees that she was sure she would never see again, as if to stab herself one last time before leaving.

She knew she had to take that train, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to accept it. She had thought about leaving for a long time, but now that she was right there, now that the precise moment had arrived, she felt the pressure of her own blood coursing through her veins.

She could feel her pulse growing stronger and stronger.

Finally, she grabbed her carry-on bag—she carried nothing else—and descended the escalator that would take her to the platform where she had to board the train.

As she descended the escalator, she looked back one more time, and a knot formed in her stomach.