The platform for the beach-bound inter-city train was deserted as we four stepped in. So it meant we have just missed one and will be waiting for some pleasant seconds before the next train arrived.
We found three stone chairs, and two among us rested their legs. I put my bag on the third and started off on a stroll, with the remaining friend following suite.
The day had been hectic, in being both tough and frolicsome. In the morning, out at college, as usual we were fed on two days worth of coursework. And once outside, we made fun in the evening at a swanky mall that lasted till into night. En route home, with stars and moon up, on a railway station that over-looked a beach not far to enthrall its passersby with its modernistic arches and the naturalistic gush of sea breeze, me and my friend set on a stroll.
I was drinking into the moment while my friend drank from a cup of soaped-water to puff out iridescent bubbles in the dull glow of the terraced-platform. On having reached the far-end, we turned back, retracing our steps while when we found a big fan plastered to the wall on the right.
A stone bench rested in its shade. She walked up to it and sat, inviting me to do the same.
We both were to ourselves when out-of-no-where I asked her, “do you have any regrets, quite recent ones for that case?” She declined except for one wherein I had refused to acknowledge her presence, quite apparently. She tossed the question to me and I honestly said, “Many”. Very well knowing that I won’t, rather don’t share them, she asked, “What are they? At least tell the ones concerning me.” And predictably enough I said, “I won’t say.” And she resumed to blow bubbles, feigning innocence to submerge the slogginess in the air. And I cleared my mind to be back appreciating the wind, the night and the bubbles floating in the windy night.