“Tickets please.” I droned, walking the aisle of the train, occasionally holding onto the back of a seat for balance. The train tonight is loud, making my job unpleasant. The rocking, the clickety-clacking, the talking and the thoughts of the people aboard the train crowd in on me, surrounding me, trapping me in a bubble of cacophonous noise which makes my head thump.

Everyone, everything on board this train has a secret. The blonde woman sitting next to the business man in the grey suit is skipping dinner with her husband to see her lover. The businessman himself holds a secret, one so dark that if his work found out, he wouldn’t be a businessman anymore. The mother, thrusting a crumpled bundle of paper at me while she tries to soothe her screaming infant knows she hasn’t got the ticket, but hopes I won’t examine the paper she proffers, her chipped glitter polish winks at me. It knows the secret, I know the secret, and the train knows the secret. the train itself has a secret. It will derail soon, tired of working. Tired of carrying people and their germs. And I, will delight in that. relish it. Hold the secret close, for I am the secret keeper of the train. And we, my dear passengers are aboard the train of secrets.