Stranger on a Train (3 of 3)

We left the hotel and walked, companionably, across the courtyard and back to the station. I had only about five minutes to wait for the next train.

He said, "I keep my promises, baby. I'm sorry for what I had to do to you. I promise, you'll never see me again."

I stared at him for a moment. He looked haggard under the fluorescent lights. Maybe the experience had taken more out of him than I'd realized. Maybe he was haunted by the idea of years searching for another of his own kind. Either way, I stepped close to him and, of my free will, kissed his mouth.

It was our first and last kiss. His lips were surprisingly soft and gentle. I pulled out a pen and wrote my phone number on his hand.

"I don't understand who or what you are," I said, "or what really happened tonight. But ... call if you need me?"

He was moved; he looked down at his hand, and then up into my eyes. "I guess I don't understand, either," he said. "I don't understand how you can give me this, after what I've done."

Then my train pulled up with a whoosh. I stepped on board and watched as the doors closed between us. As I pulled away into the night, I wondered if I'd ever see him again.

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