eyes widen, then look away

March Monday
the season of the hares, at the end of the month it will be Easter, the season of rabbits. The weather is warmer now, the cobblestones  in the alley are greasily shining with the damp. There are footsteps behind, do not turn. But it would be nice to know.
and
Never mind, pass those arches in front of Grimm's shop, go on down the main street. There are the up and down sounds of a Police car's Martin's horn in the distance, or a fire brigade, or an ambulance. A distant emergency, requiring that kind of service.
Dolores is at the bus stop, or rather, is in the shelter at the Ponto de Onibus. Wish her a good morning, receive her returned greeting. look out over the river, with the thaw it will fill up again, it will turn into a torrent.

The bus arrives, today's driver has hair close cropped on the side of his head, long on top. He is wearing jewelry in his face, piercing his skin, a ring on his eyebrow. Pay him his fare, turn away from the driver, lock eyes with a young very dark skinned woman on the front seat of the bus. See her eyes widen, then look away, she does too, an accidental meeting, ← go to the back of the bus, sit down.

At the railway station, wish the cheerful pig-tailed smoker a good morning He has returned, he may have been on holidays or something.
Get the usual coffee in the cafe at the station, go to the waiting room. The fidgety man is there, wearing a neon yellow knitted hat, the sort of thing skiers wear. Not the downhill racer type skier, the other kind. Start to write these notes, until the small diesel train arrives from Rosenheim. It always arrives at the first platform, and it is the signal that it is time to leave for platform Number six.
There, the train has just arrived, it stops, the doors open, people jump out, in a hurry. • Board the train. find a seat. sit down, continue to scribble notes. The train leaves Landshut after a short delay.


By the time it is in Mooshurg, the sky has turned a deep navy blue, close to black, lighter around
the horizon.
The young woman, who had given a friendly morning greeting in Landshut, has now fallen asleep over the table on the other side of the carriage, her head cradled in her arms. She is on the train
every day, a large, black-haired, friendly presence. Her telephone will wake her, just before the train reaches Freising, and it does, she sits up and consults the small device, starts to write a message.
It is lighter now, but the fields are still just grey end black-There is not enough light to allow them to be green.
Cars on the parallel road are visible on account of their bright headlamps, and their glowing red rear lights.
Now. the train is at the outskirts of the small town of Freising.