At her home on Oakcrest Street, like clockwork, every morning at 4am she had been awoken by a lumbering train with its loud incessant steam whistle as it wormed through the middle of town on its ways to somewhere else. She had gotten to where her body awoke naturally five minutes early in anticipation, and if, on occasion, the big annoying train missed it’s rendezvous with the town where she lived, for some reason, she’d be unable to go back to sleep and her whole day would be ruined from that point on.

Funny how the things that annoy us most eventually become the things we can’t live without, she thought. Seeing the regular flow of trains pass over the bridge on her way to school was one of those creature comforts like tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches on a rainy day....

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