one third of a moment #18

just like every other day, without fail, she stopped her dilapidated scooter near to the yellow-black lane of stones that separates footpath from the bridge. the precision in taking the everyday halt was so intense, that the side-stand fell right into the notch made by it over months. she removed her scarf and headphones and stood on the specific spot with her palms resting on the cold, wet railing. there was the the thing she likes to watch, and hates to acknowledge its existence.
               right below her, amidst the fog, was the train she coveted so much. the train that leaves for the place of her desire everyday. yet, here she was, over the top of it, still unable to bring herself to be inside it. and just like a habit, the next thought of the line popped up inside her head, again for the umpteenth time. since some time, she had been talking her body to be a barrier. a roadblock between where she was and where heart was. the social protocols, the emotional blockades, are all for the flesh and bones. the soul, on its own, can be where it wants to be. can do what it wants to do. because its neither he or she, or rich or poor. or engaged in a perpetual commitment to anyone either.
              but way far, there is one man, who is eager to meet her, but with flesh and bones. and for him, she has to dwell in the hideous meatsuit for a while longer. she was disposed of one thing though, that one day she will fly away from the miserably mess, for a single thread of hope is all she always wanted. very soon.
             she kick-started her scooter and zoomed away!