A train ghost

Today I was on the train travelling into the city.

A deshevelled man walked up the carriage holding a crumpled envelope. He went to each passenger in turn, and poked it under their noses.

None looked up. They stayed immersed in their books, in the views out the window, or the gum under the seats in front.

None wished to make contact with the crazy man.

He came to me. I intended to do as everyone else did. Nonetheless, I briefly looked at the envelope.

It was dirty and worn, with several sentences of text. I read only the first line;


"(I am dead)"


He swiftly moved on to others, and then the next carriage, apparently unpeturbed.

A man. A ghost. Wandering and trying to reach the living.

Failing.

But enduring.