You know that slightly stupid expression?
“My heart’s beating out of my chest!”
Well stupid as it is, it definitely happened to me
that time after
We jumped onboard a moving train.
How stupid or gutsy did we have to be to do that?
Is it stupid or gutsy?
I remember well
The panic as we hit the cold windswept platform at exactly 21h20,
The squint of despair in the corner of my eye as I see the train already gently rolling off into a blur of purple and green,
The adrenaline rush that somehow compels me to run forward, somehow pushes me to grasp the nearest chilly metal door handle and hang on,
The slight scratch as it swings open, not yet locked,
The way my legs take over, as if they’ve done this countless times before, moving like automatons, accelerating with the train, swinging up the steps towards the open portal,
The look of shock on the young French woman’s face, open mouth as red as her glasses as I lurch clumsily into the car, smashing my jaw against the door.
The sudden warmth that invades my winter coat as we rush, panting, into the passenger compartment.
Somehow you were fast enough…gutsy enough…
To be half a step behind me.
So now I’m curled up in the cozy calm of the car
your steady arm around my neck, legs squished into the plush red seats.
But my heart won’t stop beating out of my chest.