Idle Stories<p>The train stops at a distance from a tiny village. From my window seat, I see a lone figure hurry out of a building and towards us. </p><p>He passes a construction site. The village has clearly been trying to grow towards the railway, but it is too small to make a difference. By the time it gets there, the railroad will be rusty and overgrown with grass.</p><p>The man is likewise small and slow. Before he arrives, the train gives a loud whistle and moves on.</p><p>I wave.</p><p><a href="https://writing.exchange/tags/wss366" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>wss366</span></a> <a href="https://writing.exchange/tags/TheTrainStops" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>TheTrainStops</span></a> <a href="https://writing.exchange/tags/microfiction" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>microfiction</span></a></p>