The Lincoln Stop

Walter walked between the rails, stretching his stride to land on every other wooden plank. He looked back frequently, even though he knew he would hear a train coming well before he would need to step aside. At one point, he knelt and pressed his ear to the cold rail to sense the vibration of an approaching train, but he felt nothing. The woman was gone. Mel. Gone. The Lincoln stop. What else might disappear from his life? Walter descended the long stairway to the platform in Cambridge on Tuesday. Perhaps the train itself wouldn't show up today. Then tomorrow, the whole station would vanish.