Still

The lot was empty.

Just concrete and parking lines

and someone

in the middle of it

not moving.

The train was moving fast enough

that I only saw them

for a few seconds,

maybe less,

just long enough

to register:

person,

standing,

not waiting,

not looking,

not doing anything.

I turned to look back

but the train had already taken me

somewhere else,

and the lot was gone,

and the person was gone,

and I was left with the image

of someone

standing still

while everything moved.

I've been thinking about it for a week.

Why.

Just why.

What was the moment before

the standing?

What happens after?

Does someone who stands like that

in a parking lot

by the railway

ever do anything else?

Or is that the thing they do.

That's the thing they are.

The person who stands.

My coworker asked why I was distracted

on the train ride back today.

I said I saw something.

She asked what.

I couldn't explain.

How do you explain

someone

standing?

It wasn't sad.

It wasn't angry.

It was just

still,

and that was worse somehow,

that there was no emotion on it,

no reason written in the body,

just

the fact of standing,

the fact of not moving,

the fact of being seen

for three seconds

by someone on a train

who can't forget it.

I keep thinking:

what if they were waiting for the train?

What if they were trying to work up the courage?

What if they were just

taking a break?

The train doesn't stop

to let you help.

The train doesn't care

why someone's standing.

The train just moves,

and you move with it,

and the person gets smaller,

and smaller,

and then they're gone,

and you're left wondering

if they ever moved at all.