The Train Window

Dear Delyara, I’m on the evening commute, leaning my head against the cold glass of the window. The reflection of the person sitting opposite me is layered over the darkening trees outside. We are all just ghosts traveling through the landscape. I wonder where everyone is going. Are they going home to someone they love, or are they going home to an empty room like I am? We all look so tired. I hope someone has put the kettle on for them.