On the Platform in Vienna

A young woman stands on the train platform, her feet shuffling in a delicate dance of nerves. The peach folds of her gossamer skirt float around her legs in response to her movements like the undulations of a peacock’s feathers. Her arms fold and unfold in trapped uncertainty: a hand alights on her shoulder, a fingernail finds its way between nibbling teeth. Occasionally she steps out from behind the cold steel pillar for a better look, and the long dark curls of her hair respond in waves, straining against the large dark sunglasses perched above her brow. She is unselfconsciously nervous as she looks down the platform. A train is coming, and there is someone on it.

This someone carries joy for her, as the slight smile that plays across her impatient lips tells in the unmistakable language of happiness. This someone is important to her, as the precise strokes of make-up and flattering white blouse make clear. And this someone is about to arrive, as the yearning glances at the platform marquis declare.

A train draws into the station. Its long sleek silver lines sidle up to the hard concrete edge, daring to approach but not deigning to touch. The brakes hiss with loud satisfaction and the metal behemoth makes its final jolt to stop. Its cargo is a hundred passengers or more, eager to disembark into the city of Vienna. The young woman’s shuffle becomes more punctuated: now two steps out into view, then one back.

The wheeled leviathan disgorges its payload, dozens of click-clacking forms scurrying from the open doors. Bags are trundled, sacks are shouldered and duffles hefted for the rush to the station. Figures pass the young woman: coats, ties, dresses, scarves, shoes, heels, hats and shades go by framing faces that care not for a petite femme in waiting. Nor does she care for them; only her gossamer skirt responds to the breeze of their passing. But her glances become more urgent. The swaying fronds of hair bat across her bosom as she seeks the one, her someone on this train from Venice.

Then her smile breaks full across her snowy complexion and her beauty is revealed, sending the make-up and mascara to pale in the light of her natural spendour. She steps forward, confidently hesitant, waiting for her discovery to be made mutual.

He sees her, his own face weary no more with travel but rejuvenated by the meeting of hope. His shouldered burden is now light as he reaches out to take his gossamer love by the waist and draw her to himself. She wraps her arms around his neck and sinks her eyes deep into his just before their lips meet and all waiting, traveling, hoping and wondering are lost in a kiss that binds the two as one. They walk down the platform together with hands locked in the same bond of love.