I watched the late train go by and felt envious of strangers going somewhere else

Dear Delyara, I was in the car, waiting at the crossing, and a train passed with its lit windows and tired evening faces and sudden private stories. For a second, I felt that old sharp longing — not exactly to be on that train, but to be going somewhere other than the version of evening that already knew my name too well. Home, dinner, school things, kitchen, tomorrow. The feeling passed quickly. It still told the truth. There are moments in adult life where longing arrives in very strange directions. Toward trains, hotel rooms, empty roads, closed doors, anonymous cafés. Not because we want to abandon our lives entirely, but because we want a brief life without our own emotional responsibilities inside it.