I know, I haven't published anything in ages. I've been busy though, just working on some other projects, namely a script that I've been working on forever and a magazine article. Just thought I'd put up a story so you know I'm still out here working away.

Fall From Grace

The inside of the car was damp. The windows were fogged with breath and the steam that rose from passengers’ coats and hats. A child (or at least Sarah assumed it was a child though it could just as easily have been a playful adult) had drawn a smiley face in the fog on the centre window. The droplets of rain that shivered on the outside of the window made it look as if the smiley face was crying.
Sarah sighed and flicked a dripping strand from her forehead. She leaned against the clammy partition behind her.
-Do we have to again? We went last week.
Adam adjusted a strap on his backpack. Why does he always have to wear a backpack? He’s a grown man for God’s sake. Adam bit the skin around his cuticles, peeling back a hangnail.
-I guess not. But it’s a bit late now. They’re expecting us.
The PA system dinged and a mechanical voice that aimed to sound warm and inviting but only managed to sound vaguely psychotic announced the next stop. Sarah exhaled loudly and pulled her cold jeans away from her thighs. She wasn’t sure why she was so annoyed about going to Adam’s parents’. But she was.
The train lurched and came to a halt. The doors opened letting in a gust of cold air and a spattering of people shaking umbrellas and boots.
-I mean if you really don’t want to go, I could call them now.
-No, no. Don’t be ridiculous.
Sarah rolled her eyes. Adam curled his hand around hers.
-What’s wrong Sar?
-Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.
Sarah shook his hand loose like a damp leaf clinging to a jacket about to be put away in the closet.
-Why don’t we ever go to my parents’?
Adam licked his lips. The air in the car was heating up and smelled of wool and sweat.
-We can go. We can go any time. You just never…I didn’t think you wanted to.
Adam looked at her, his eagerness to please stamped on his brow. Sarah wanted to punch him or maybe just drip out of her own skin and melt into a puddle, run the length of the train and slip along its side, a colourful patch of waxy flesh.
-I don’t. You’re right. It would just be nice if you suggested it sometime.
Sarah’s frustration was a tenuous spider web between them. Adam prickled and brushed his face as if he could feel the web. Why am I always such a bitch?
-So, you don’t want to go to your parents but I’m still supposed to suggest it?
It was hotter now in the train and Sarah could feel sweat mingle with the rain.
-I’m irrational, I know. I’m sorry.
Adam leaned forward and gave her a scratchy chicken peck. His shaggy brown hair tickled her nose. She clenched her hands, fingernails making red imprints in her palm, resisting the urge to push him away.
-It’s ok.
His breath was warmer and staler than the air pumping out of the ankle high heaters.
-No, it’s not ok. I shouldn’t treat you like this. Why do you let me get away with it?
The train bumped and lurched. There was a rattle like a rollercoaster clacking against wooden tracks or an old man breathing him last phlegmy breath.
Sarah stumbled and ended up against the door. She looked at Adam, startled. He reached out his hand to her just as the doors flew open, released from whatever mechanics usually kept them closed. Sarah felt the web snap and she was falling, falling, falling away from the train and its tracks and Adam.