I had to do it. Left foot first, on to the first step.

Most people naturally step

with the right first, but I’m not like most people, am I?

I was stepping on to the train now, and I still hadn’t the faintest clue where I
was going. Anywhere but here, I suppose. I step past the conductor, slipping him
my ticket, and take a seat in the long, red, cushioned bench at the back. The
train would start soon, and a little later I would be far away from here, far away
from the cozy cottages and nosy neighbors. Maybe the city will be nicer. Still,
the creeping feeling up my spine was more than just the winter chill. The problems
I was running from were mine, and should have been mine to deal with, but this how
I always handle things. The coward’s way out, but Isn’t the coward always the
survivor? Maybe that was irrelevant.

An old woman came tottering up the aisle, pushing a rickety metal cart laiden with
mugs, cartons of creamer, milk, and chocolate. She asked me if I would care for
any, and I replied that I didn’t.

That’s it, that’s what’s relevant. What I want, what everyone wants, just to live,
be happy, and what makes someone happier than making someone else joyful? Well,
that was an easy question. Making yourself joyful, of course. That’s why I was on
this train, not out of guilt, but because this truly was the easiest way out.

Soon, I’ll be in a new city, and I’ll have new people to meet. New people to
greet, scam, lie to, decieve and, if it comes to it, murder.
I caught a glimpse of several lights out of the window to my left. Dozens of
people, carrying odd assortments of makeshift weapons and farm tools were charging
towards the train. They were too late, the train had started it’s engine, and was
already far away when the makeshift police force had arrived at the station
platform.
A man sitting in the seat in front of me loudly inquired about the mob.
I assured him, it was nothing, they were just doing what made them happy. After
all, vengeance has always brought me a fair measure of joy.