The hot tears on my face contrasted sharply with the icy glass melded with my forehead.
I felt I could read their lips, even though they weren’t even moving. I love you. Good-bye. I’m sorry. A hint of a smile amidst the sorrow.
The woman and the man parted slightly, gloved hands brushing, dark-haired heads kissing, dotted with flecks of weeping snow. Despite the puffy gear piled on slim bodies to block out the cold, the intimacy of their farewell could not be disguised–or rather, prevented.
Perhaps the woman was leaving for a school far away to continue her studies–maybe the London School of Economics, or Vienna for culinary studies. Perhaps this was a bitter farewell, one forced by odds stacked upon odds, cruel circumstances, or perhaps this was a temporary good-bye, an understanding.
She slipped onto the train, one hand wrapped around her luggage–burdens weighing her down in more ways than one–one hand shoved inside her pocket, preserving the touch of her loved one.
But as I watched, drawing in a hitched breath, the woman turned to look at the tall man left standing on the platform, and the look on her face confirmed hope.
Someday. Aliquando. Un jour. Algún día. κάποια μέρα.