i sat in the aisle seat of a darkened train straining to watch the early morning landscape glide through the window. the girl next to me was burrowed under a blanket, and i hesitatingly inclined my head toward her to get a better view of the gray, snowy plains that stretched out for miles. the cars swayed, pushing everyone into and away from each other in a sort-of pattern, but i braced my legs against the floor to keep from upsetting my neighbor’s slumber. something about the color of the early morning sunlight against the late winter landscape made me think of the room i shared with my brother when i was little. curtains thrown open and window thrust up and secured with a ruler, i’d read by moonlight until i fell asleep, book pages rustling when the wind blew in. i’d dream i was chasing after something that was just out of reach. the girl turned toward me under the blanket and i sat back quickly, blushing at the thought of her seeing me so close. soon though her slow, even breathing coaxed me to close my eyes and i realized, right before i slept, that my whole life was a culmination of those dreams, and that i was on a train that was chasing a great thing it would never, ever catch.