Sometimes, on quiet afternoons, Thomas drove back to the overlook near the train tracks. The rails shimmered in the sun, empty and peaceful now.
Tracks sat by his boots, ears perked whenever a distant horn echoed. Switch lay between them, chewing on a leaf, content.
“That’s where we met,” Thomas said softly. “Where everything stopped so we could start again.”
Tracks leaned against his leg, and Thomas smiled. “Yeah,” he whispered. “You stopped a train—but you got my life moving again.”
