The Evening Express

A deep, low-frequency tremor surged through the slatted bench beneath my axles, announcing inbound traffic. Platform lamps flickered against the dark ballast below as a blinding headlight swept the siding. Then it surged into view: a colossal locomotive, towering over the platform with massive steel wheelsets revolving in measured, thunderous cadence. Air displaced by the rushing coaches washed across my cowcatcher, tugging at the canvas bag behind my tender. I held my brakes firm at the edge of the timber, keeping all three passenger cars in disciplined, coupled alignment. The mainline horn echoed into the night—the highest operational standard, verified from the siding.