Train ride

The train chugged steadily along as the tracks transitioned its passengers from their regular city lives into the wooded outskirts of civilization. Jack rested his chin on his head as he looked out the window to watch the transition happen. It was always interesting to him to see how quickly the landscape went from buildings to trees. Perhaps things had been intentionally left that way along the train tracks, or perhaps it was just around the city that he lived in. But the change was near instant, and it always amazed him how that could even happen.

Sarah sat beside him, less interested in the scenery, and more interested in her book. She was combing over it with her pen, frequently writing notes to herself in the margins, crossing out words, making edits. It was a proof copy of a book she had been writing for years that she used for editing, which the train ride was a good opportunity for. It would take three hours for them to reach their destination, and the relaxed atmosphere of the train and its rocking motions put her in a mood for reading and writing.

When Jack had grown satisfied with watching the trees he leaned back into his seat and put an arm around Sarah, pulling her to his side. Without a word, Sarah turned in her seat to rest her head against his chest, her face still buried in her book, her pen still scritching away at the words on the pages. Jack rested his head back against his seat and closed his eyes, perfectly content to take a nap for the next hour or two.

They had been married for three years. Sarah had started her book the year they started dating, which was four years before their marriage. Jack had always supported her writing, constantly encouraging her and getting her to push onwards even when she didn't want to, but he had yet to read any of it. Not for lack of desire - in the beginning, he had frequently asked to read what she had written - but because she was always so self conscious about her writing. She didn't want to share her work. Not until it was done, and perfect. That was why it had taken her so long just to write a first draft. She would likely be editing that draft alone for a year, and who knew how many drafts of it she would go through before it was done.

But Jack had gotten her to promise that he would be the first one to get to read it when it was done, and he had long since become satisfied with that. He felt no need to try and peer over her shoulder as she was working, because he knew that it would only make it harder for her to work, and he knew that someday he would get to read it in its best state. And she had long since become comfortable with him even being there when she was working. They had spent many a night, with him watching tv, and her sitting in his lap writing as he did so.

It was a comfortable thing. They didn't live a fast life. And that was why they took the train.