The endless conversation

She was asleep, and so I was alone on a near-empty train between Lilystad and Amsterdam. This places me in the Dutch countryside on a wet night void of any rain. It was one of those heavy nights where the air was cool and thick and still somehow refreshing. The train was stuffy.

Ahead in the car, maybe six seats up, backs turned, sat two strangers. They were strangers to me and strangers to one another, but they struck up this odd and winding conversation. I think one was clergy. Neither spoke English as a first language, but both were attempting English, and it was all awry.

“What!?” The man shrilled in this unearthly mess of a throaty froth.

“You know what I mean!” She shot back awkwardly and unabashed. “You know. You know what I mean! You know!”

“I do, I do not. I do not!”

It was like this for 40 minutes, this explanation and misunderstanding. After awhile they bled into the metal and plastic of the train car. They became the contrasting greens and yellows and oranges inside and all around us. I never saw their faces, but as we pulled into another station and they wailed away the acidic scene became perfect for a photo. Here was more dissonance in front of me, slightly to my right. The wait was forever, but as the train finally rocked again and they continued to bark like children over a toy the view slid into frame. I caught this whilst rolling away.
The endless conversation
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