Soltary man

 by Yakovenko Andrey

 The train was passing another tunnel. Rail sleepers were rushing past. A solitary traveller looked out of the window. It was evening time. The sunset rays were illuminating the only tree on the hill. There had been a lonesome maple with yellowed leaves.

“Just as I am”, the man whispered. His gaze was full of wisdom and disappointment.
 The man was dressed in a grey suit with a slim tie. His hat was pulled over the eyes. An ideal type of the “poker face”. He had no luggage, just a book held in a hand. As the stewardess was passing by the seats, he asked for the tea, he had ordered 20 minutes ago. No response sounded. Discharged mobile phone became useless.
          He payed no attention to the train`s point of destination in his ticket. At that time he was an incarnation of the person who is ready to travel all over the continent without batting an eye. At one moment everything had become all the same. No one was to talk. No one was to back him up. But helived an accaptable state as every talk seemed to be unneeded, futhermore undesirable for him. He lived a solitude: a status of “no trouble”, just the harmony and simple truth to oneself.