Gabrielle Gassin

I woke up this morning at 4:15 hyperventilating in sadness. I grabbed my notebook and scribbled down the images in my mind that had caused me so much angst, even in my unconscious state. It has only been altered slightly in terms of syntax.

…And with the realisation of what had transpired between the Russians and the Americans – a deal gone sour and the loss of fortune and a way of life, in slow motion the lives of the people present diminished in front of her eyes. And it was something that happened quickly – one minute she was at the help desk asking for someone who spoke English to assist her brother with booking a room for the night, the next she was watching from the peaceful position of a train window, overlooking the bridge and the river, and all that happened down below.

The men from both sides climbed down the stairs and merged at the dock. The detectives traced their every move – one step in front yet physically one step behind. As the snow began to billow furiously and the wind began its winter course, the train jerked forward unexpectedly, those who remained lurched to grab something to steady their bodies; they truly needed it now. Through the front window the wind and snow altered her perception of everything, but it wasn’t too late – the snow hadn’t yet fallen enough to submerge the figure of a little white dog trotting happily, unprepared for the fate about to befall her. The girl screamed from the depths of her very soul as the little dog was left behind – the train pulling away unknowingly from all that connected her to what was once a beautiful life.