The Annoying Travel Companion

The Annoying Travel Companion

                Since there was now no reason for me to stay at Hanford, I thought it best that I leave old memories behind and start anew. I thought of traveling to London, or perhaps Bath, to seek my fortune away from my friends and relatives. In the end, however, after much consideration, I decided to go to Baxley, for I knew of a man whose needs for his new business might require my services. Perhaps it would suit as a good source of income, and I could meet new people and make new friends. Truly, it was the change of scenery I needed the most.

                I decided to board the train at Wexford, which I knew to be a less populated train station, and less likely to have a whole lot of conversation, which was not very pleasant if a person wanted to sleep. Upon boarding the train I was seated across from a young lady, perhaps not much younger than myself, who immediately took to conversation, dashing all hopes of catching a nap after my emotional interlude earlier in the afternoon.

                “Hello, sir-lovely afternoon, isn’t it? I looked out the window and had to admit- that it was, in fact, a lovely afternoon. Weather-wise.

                “Yes it is,” I replied shortly and proceeded to read the newspaper I just picked up from under the seat.

                “You say that it is a lovely afternoon, yet your countenance betrays you. You do not think it lovely at all!” said the girl emphatically. Her curls had begun to bounce rather rapidly as the train sped along. Some people were staring at us.  I put down my newspaper.

                “I merely agreed with you, madam.” As she opened her mouth to reply, I picked back up my newspaper. I had no idea what I was reading, nor did I care. I could only hope it would persuade her to stop talking. I lowered myself in the chair, thus bringing the newspaper higher above my face.

                “I say, why are you so dull? It is a wonderful day- and what are you reading, that you seem so intent on?” I groaned inwardly and decided that ignoring the young lady might be the best plan of action. As I stared more intently at the newspaper, I began to see patterns in the spaces between the letters. Before I could put it down to ease my headache, I felt it snatched from me. Astonished and startled, I looked at the girl, who was now inspecting the paper.

                “Have the goodness to give me back my paper, lady.”

                “I cannot believe you are reading this. Such garbage! You support these shameful and inhumane practices?” Obviously I had no idea what she was talking about, as I had not actually read the newspaper at all. I decided to act as though I did, and hence discover what it was that I supposedly “read”.

                “What are you accusing me of so ardently?” I demanded. “Have I not the right to read what I please?”

                “Yes, sir, but to read positive essays about the seeming enslaving of young children in our factories is an abomination. You should be ashamed of yourself!”

                “On the contrary, I do not support those ideas, nor do I put them into practice. I merely have an interest in literature in general.” I reached out my hand and motioned for her to give me the paper, which, in turn, she ripped in half and placed beside her on her seat.

                “I do not believe you. I think you an arrogant, impolite fool, and am ashamed to have made your acquaintance.” Suddenly this whole thing seemed rather humorous.

                “But you haven’t,” I replied, extending my right hand. “My name is Vince Warden. What’s yours?”

 This was something I wrote on a whim. Usually when I write, I have no particular plan. Sorry this is so random. I know it sounds like an excerpt from a chapter of a book.