Her hair whipped around violently at the howling wind that rang in our ears. Her face became covered and soon she felt like nobody. No longer did she feel like my wife. I jumped, not thinking, not processing, just trying to get to the love of my life. The building was 50 stories high, I’d never make it. The train station was empty. The last train screeched to a stop. Somehow the train felt impatient, like it was pulling in Leah. She’d given in quickly, feeling completion of her time on earth. Leah was too dazed to truly think, her mind warped by the train’s presence. Still facing me, she stared, I couldn’t see her face among the black swirling hair engulfing her head. I knew in my heart whatever version of my wife that was, she was staring, with a small smile on her face. A pivot on her toe had her back to me in a second. Inches away from the open train door, she took a step. In a second the whole train station was gone. Her hair just escaped from my grasp. I now am on the ground inches away from that now ghost of a train. Seconds felt like hours. So close, she was right there. “I love you Emma.” A voice whispered in the wind. I whipped around, searching frantically, just to find a small toy train laying still with a passenger with black hair riding aboard.