Lin sits on her mother’s lap, watching as the countryside fades by out the window of the slow-moving train. She traces her small fingers along the horizon, raising them up to outline the far-off mountain ranges. Her father is slumped across from them in the booth of the observation car. He is tired; Lin is only 8 but she can see it in his face and it makes her sad, but she’s not sure why. Shifting off her mother’s lap, she slides a book from the table and walks carefully to an empty chair, curling into it. She draws her thin knees up in front of her and props the book on them as she reads.


Evening has arrived and Lin’s father reaches down to pull her from the chair to carry her back to their seats. She is wide awake but lets her body go limp, clamping her eyes shut so she won’t have to walk. She cracks an eye open to watch her mother and father settle into place across the aisle as she sits and waits for dawn.


Awakened by a toss of the train as it rolls over the uneven tracks below, Lin covers her face at the brightness of the sun. Peeking through her fingers, her eyes set on a sea of yellow through the window. She sits up on her knees and presses her face to the glass, trying to make out the details of this seemingly endless color. Lin realizes, with a start, that the scene before her is not uniform; instead, it is made up of thousands of individual flowers, dotted with the occasional pink or purple blossom. I want one. I’ve got to touch them. I want one. Lin’s thoughts race as she becomes desperate. The train seems to be going so slowly now that it has almost ceased to move. I could walk faster than this train. I COULD. I could walk faster!


She whips her head around in the direction of her parents; they are still sleeping. Their window shade is drawn and the sun hasn’t reached their faces yet. Breathing quickly, she fishes under her seat for her shoes and jacket, watching her mother and father for signs of movement. Dressed and ready, Lin inches forward and out of her seat until she is standing in the aisle. The other passengers are asleep, too, or have faces buried in their newspapers. No one asks the small girl where she is going.


She reaches the compartment door-her pulse echoing like a drumbeat in her ears. Extending her hand to press the button, she holds tightly to the railing as the door slides open and she can hear the rush of the tracks below. The train seems so much faster now, but it’s not too fast. It can’t be. Lin’s eyes watch the railroad ties as they pass one by one. One…two…three…four…five…six…seven…eight….nine…. On ten, she jumps.


Lin lands on her back on soft grass, having missed the menacing gravel around the tracks. She stands up quickly, lunging forward and into the sea of flowers before her. Their tops reach up to her shoulders and she runs, pulling at them, gathering as many as she can carry into her hands. She can’t hold them all and they’re falling behind her; leaving a trail of broken stems and trampled earth.

Filled with bliss, she doesn’t look back at the train until she has reached the middle of the field. As she turns slowly to survey the landscape around her, Lin realizes she can no longer see the open door of her train car. The train seems to be speeding up-blurring into one streak of gray before her. Crying out, she runs toward it but the flower stems in front of her cause her to trip continually. She pushes at them and bolts ahead in a panicked run.

As Lin reaches it, she looks up at the roaring train in front of her. Its wheels stamp down on the tracks-the grinding and screeching of metal echoing in her ears stuns her. Sets of stairs leading to car doors pass her by and she swears to grab the next set of railing, but the train is so tall. Tears stream down her face and she reaches her shaking arm toward the train, preparing to grab onto anything she can. As she reaches out, a strong arm meets hers from an open doorway, pulling her in.

The young conductor had seen her running toward the train from a distance, and had slowed the train to try and grab her. Laying the coughing, panicked girl on the car’s floor, he ran to find her a glass of water and a blanket. He returned moments later to find her staring up at the ceiling. The light had gone from her eyes and he cried out in despair and confusion. Lin lay there on the cold floor like a broken doll, a bright yellow flower clutched between her small fingers.