Sleep is hard to come by when you commute to and from the city every day. To and from, to and from, to and from. Ivy closes her eyes and makes a cushion of the cold window. It will do.
She peeks one eye open when the train reaches Great Lakes, but he’s not there. He’s never there to bother her anymore, that strapping young Navy lad. It used to be a daily thing. He would step into the car, stupid grin slapped across his clean-shaven face, and sit next to her. He always sat next to her, even though there were plenty of empty seats. “Ivy, sweet Ivy,” he’d say, “your fresh green beauty grows all over the walls of my heart. When are you going to let me marry you, huh?”
“Shut up, kid. Let me sleep.”
Sometimes, if she was feeling generous, Ivy would switch her head from the window to his bony shoulder. Not much more comfortable, but warmer. He smelled like cheap cologne.
It seems my stories this week have a military theme so far. Weird.
I am sick as a dog. Well, maybe not that bad. I have a sore throat. No fever, though. I'm probably just getting a cold. I often have a sore throat before I get a cold. I am extra sleepy, too. I was working on my novel yesterday (did you notice that the word count got higher?) and I kept misspelling words. You know I must be tired when I lose my ability to spell. It was bad.