The Rain lashes against the train window, blurring the outside world as the train rattles gently over the tracks, its motion rhythmic, hypnotic. The world outside blurring into gray. The buildings and trees dissolving into a smeared grey, washed together under a thick curtain of rain. Water streaked down the window in twisting rivulets, tiny, desperate rivers with nowhere to go.

David, a middle-aged man, sits alone, lost in thought, the rattle of the train over the tracks serving as a lullaby to him, a monotonous comfort on his daily commute home from Northwood High. He was an English teacher, a profession he loved, a life that, on paper, should have been perfect. Yet, a hollow echo resonated within him. Everything, it seemed, had begun to slide downhill after Eleanor. Her absence was a constant, quiet hum beneath the surface of his days. He was lonely, yes, but more than that, he was adrift, desperate for… something-or someone perhaps… He wasn’t sure what. A connection, a sign, a new anchor to pull him back to shore. He sighed, the sound lost in the train’s drone, and leaned his head against the cool glass, reminiscing about a life that felt a million miles away.

Just across from him, he felt a gaze. David shifted slightly, surprised. Most commuters preferred their isolation. He glanced up, his eyes meeting those of another man, with a stillness that intrigued David. There was a glint in his eye, a hint of something familiar, a shared weariness that David instinctively recognized.

- “Rainy days always bring out the blues, don’t they?” the man said, his voice low, breaking the silence and the hypnotic rhythm of the train. David was startled. He hadn’t expected conversation. They were strangers, bound only by shared transit. He hesitated, then offered a slight, tired smile. “You know, you’re right. It’s as if the world is crying with you.”

A brief pause stretched between them, not awkward, but heavy with unspoken things. David found himself wondering about the man across from him, about the stories his eyes held. The other man looked back out the window, his reflection mingling with David’s as the rain provided a soothing backdrop.

- “Or maybe it’s just a reminder of the past.” the man continued, his voice a quiet addition to the rain’s drumming. David’s eyebrows lifted. Now that intrigued him. It felt like an invitation to a deeper understanding, a glimpse into a shared landscape of memory and loss.

- “What do you mean?”

The other man smiled, a faint, almost secret curve of his lips. “Just a thought”.

They fell silent again, both lost in their own reflections. David had a hundred questions bubbling, but before he could voice any of them, the train slowed, groaning to a halt at his station. He grabbed his bag, his mind still on the enigmatic stranger, and rushed off the train, the need to get out of the downpour overriding everything else. He was halfway down the platform before a cold wave of realization hit him: his coat. And worse, the journal in its pocket. He spun around, but the train doors hissed shut, and it was already pulling away, a blur of lights disappearing into the rain-swept gray. A cold dread settled in his chest. His journal is gone.