SLEEPERS

She was asleep, I thought. Her head had fallen against the train window and her eyes were shut. A perfect reflection fell against her from the darkness on the other side: the same blue and black beanie, the same brown hair, the same wonderful sleeping smile, just backwards and equally beautiful.

I couldn't sleep on the train. Everyone else seemed to be nodding off as it rattled through the French countryside. Andy had his head back against the antimacassar, assuming the snoring position. The others were slumped across their rucksacks or nuzzled into folded arms and snow-hoods.

Every second, with every rattle of the window and every bounce over the sleepers, that train was taking us closer to England, back home to Bath and to that station platform where it had all begun.

I sighed at my own reflection. Rob would be waiting for her there, just as he was when we'd left. And she, asleep against the window, was already dreaming of him.

Would it have been easier if he had come? Probably. The truth was though, that all along, I had been Rob's replacement. And the thing that had been planned for him and for her had happened anyway, regardless of Samoens 1600, regardless of the snow bank and regardless of me. If he had been there, the tenth person on the trip, then she would never have excitedly asked me that day, and I would never have excitedly gone.

I tried thinking about something else. There was a lot of life ahead of me. Maybe it would all work out someday.

The train rattled on. She stirred and opened her eyes.

"Hey Matt," she said, beaming, suddenly awake.

"Hey," I replied, softly. "Everyone else is asleep. Are you okay?"

"Yes, I think so. Where are we?"

"I think we're nearly there," I said. "At least, I mean to say, I hope we are."

And I did.