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May 21, 2014
As we pass a deserted station I am able to flick off onto an overgrown sidetrack while the conductor is not watching. As the car slows to a stop I can see the movement through a large crack in the floor. The ties and gravel are passing below the belly of the car. A giant purple clover blossom brushes by. The conductor blows ahead, pinwheel eyes barely concealed under the brim of his cap. Somewhere in the machinery, he has registered my disconnection. He knows I have gotten away. Eventually he will make the calculations to pick me up again.