There is a bright light coming from outside. I remember when the sun shone for more than five hours a day. Rome was glorious then. I remember people walking by. Romans were proud and always busy. I remember the smells changing every season. Now, it would be roasted chestnuts on open fires. My body is decaying, but my mind is sharp. I stare at the image framed by the window, and I wish I could get near and read what it says. A school of fish swims by and covers the letters on the billboard. There is more and more of them, marine animals, reclaiming a territory that once was theirs. I watch from my submersed capsule as the light flickers and dies.
The train it’s late. It’s always late. But, the kid is there, waiting, as usual.
“What time is it?” he asks a man passing by, and shrugs his shoulders at the answer.
Every day the same. The person he asks what time is it is different, but the rest doesn’t change. It’s always late. But, it’s never the right moment. He is waiting for the right late train to arrive.
“Which one are you waiting for?” the man asks.
It’s a first. Normally, the person doesn’t stop. The kid looks at the man with curiosity, but doesn’t answer back.
“Are you alone?” The man is getting worried.
I want to go back,” the kid finally says, his face tired.
“Back where? To your mother?”
To my wife and my daughter. I took the wrong train long time ago, and it hasn’t come back, yet.”