Two men rode the morning train. They sat opposite each other. One sat facing forward, the other backward.
“I don’t like riding backward,” said the first man.
“When you sit backward and look out the window you can see what’s coming,” explained the second man.
“How’s that possible? You have sit facing forward to see what’s coming.”
“It’s easy,” replied the backward facing man.
The train emerged from under a bridge and passed behind a row of ramshackle houses. The train passed one backyard that contained a small inflatable pool and a tree with a swing.
“I see a school bus ahead at a railroad crossing,” said the backward man.
“You do!” smiled the forward man.
The train passed a skateboard park with a lone skater, who must have been ditching school.
“I see a young man speeding on his motorcycle to the mall,” said the backward man.
“That wouldn’t surprise me.”
The train passed a churchyard. A wedding arbor stood empty in a plot of flowers.
“I see someone walking into a store to buy rice,” said the backward man.
The train passed a fire engine parked beside a city park. Firefighters in rain jackets were jogging down a winding path that followed the train tracks for a short distance.
“I see an open bay door at a fire station,” said the backward man.
The train passed a liquor store, its red neon sign flashing. The morning rain was picking up.
“I see people walking down sidewalks, staring at reflections in puddles,” said the backward man.
“I don’t like trains,” explained the forward man, “but my car conked out. If I have to ride the train, I need to see what’s coming. I don’t want to miss my stop.”
The train passed behind a large car lot. The new cars were brightly polished.
“I see a car crashed in a ditch,” said the backward man.
“Obviously you can’t see any of that. Because I don’t,” asserted the forward man.
The train passed a flagpole that rose above a brick fire station that had one open bay door. The morning wind was rising, whipping the flag wildly under black clouds.
“I see a lightning strike ahead,” said the backward man.
“It’s not in the forecast,” laughed the forward man, who looked straight ahead at the backward sitting man.
The backward man turned his eyes from the train window. He looked back at the forward man, directly into his eyes.
The train passed a cemetery. Headstones covered newly green grass.
“I see a ghost.”