He looked down at his little-boy legs.
His little legs were bare.
He had never worn short pants as a boy.
His knees were sunk into the plush seat cushion.
He pushed himself up to the passenger car window.
He pressed his little face to the cold window glass.
Outside, as the train chugged on, the gently falling snow filled the trackside ditches.
He loved trains, though he hadn’t been on one as a boy.
But it was better by far than the table in the hospital…
Where he lay with a pain in his head and ache in the place where his left leg had been.
He remembered that there had been a green light.
So, this was not his fault after all.
But he loved passenger coaches on trains.
And there were voices singing in the snow outside the window.
Do demons sing at a time like this?
It didn’t matter. He hoped the train ride lasted a long time.
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