The Girl on the Train Page #3

in Westport.

There were three Alexandras,

but none of them were her.

When we got to the camp,

everything is very simple.

A man points left or right,

and you live or you die.

For my mother

and sisters, death.

I was big enough to work, so my

father and I go to the right.

I still held the little cross

in my hand,

but I saw that they were taking every

little piece of gold they could find...

Rings, bracelets.

You could only keep

the fillings in your teeth.

That they took

when you were dead.

I decided then and there...

that I would hold on to the little

cross the girl had given me,

no matter what.

I slipped it under my tongue.

Having a mission,

even if it's

only in your mind,

keeps you alive.

When I wasn't working,

I found myself

wandering the streets.

I would think I saw her

maybe a dozen times a day.

Somehow, I'd always wind up

back at the same place.

I remembered an old photo

I'd seen somewhere.

Watch things in real time,

and it's easy to believe

we're part of the world,

that our motion

is more than random,

our presence

more than accidental.

But a long exposure

reveals the truth.

We're just ghosts,

illusions we perpetrate

in ourselves.

So a guy's getting his

morning coffee and paper.

In line in front of him,

he sees this vision.

Gorgeous. I mean, right out

of the swimsuit edition.

And she's buying

a lottery ticket.

He's smitten.

Can't get a word out.

He lets her get away.

The next day, he goes back to the

store and he asks the owner,

"Do you know the girl who

bought the lottery ticket?"

And all the English this guy knows

is, "You buy something or get lost."

Right?

Well, our boy figures people

are creatures of habit,

so he finds himself

the nearest coffee shop,

plants himself where he's

got a view of the store,

figuring sooner or later

she'll come by for her ticket.

He gets obsessed.

Days turn to weeks.

Seasons change.

He shows up late for work. He's

unavailable for his friends.

But wouldn't you know it. The day he

finally decides to give it all up...

She shows up.

Turns out

she was out of town.

Let me guess.

He never makes his move.

Why?

He sees the future.

They'll have their affair, and in

time it'll be no more than that...

An affair.

He can anticipate

the purr of her throat,

the scratchy quality

of her voice in the morning.

He closes his eyes,

and he can almost smell her.

It'll be good, but they have

about as much chance...

of making it in the long run as

she does of winning the lottery.

Because good

is never perfect.

In his fevered mind,

he's realized...

the unbridgeable distance

between real and ideal.

So he would rather let her walk

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