I stepped inside and slid the door shut. Pulling the sheers together, I gave Alice one final glance. She was still staring at the door, her arms by her sides, hands planted on the porch floor, no longer gripping a flower. Though she should not be able to see me, I still ducked away from the door. I could have sworn her eyes were perfectly angled to peer into mine.
With a quick breakfast, I hurried upstairs to dress, checking Father’s watch on the bedside table. I still had plenty of time before shop hours, but for some reason, I felt behind. My mind felt sluggish, as though it never left the bed. I flipped through my wardrobe, waffling over what I should wear. Numerous long dresses, and I was not inspired by any of them. Maybe… sure, I’ll choose something a little more fancy today. Not too much. A simple blouse, perhaps? This purple one, perhaps. Did I wear this already? Most times, I returned clothes to the closet if I only wore it for a day. Speaking of which, I forgot to do the washing this week. I took note to do so when I returned.
After donning myself with just a blouse, skirt, and a sash, I gathered a few flowers from their water vases, bundled them into my basket along with a packet of bread, grabbed my hat and was out the door. I passed by Abbey sunbathing on the stone steps. Giving her a good rub, I was off.
It was another beautiful day in the country. Very few clouds, just a few whiffs speckled here and there, and a gentle, warm breeze to brush my hair. The rolling pasture hills were especially green. Like open arms, welcoming me to rove around, prancing like a little girl. For a brief time, I forgot my responsibilities, gladly submersing in the brief moment of the commute before rejoining civilization.
On the tram, I stood by the door as usual, watching the world roll by, changing from green to brown to grey. Once inside the city, I lost my interest, and stared blankly at the sky. Just as expected, a thin veil of haze muddied the blue sky, subduing its smile from before. There were many more whisks of clouds, unnatural in their texture, to cover its deep blue face over here. Other sounds joined the clang of the tram. Sounds of the city. Although, there was an usual kind of humming today. It gradually got louder and louder, like it was approaching. Dropping my gaze down to the city, I noticed there was a dark speck in the distance. No, not quite as small as a speck. Like a long prickly stick. I watched it move across the city skyline, close to the horizon. A bit too close to the horizon. As the tram got closer, I recognised, it was an aviation machine. Flying over the city with all kinds of machinery attached to its flank, leaving a thin trail behind it. It was gradually descending, like a bird about to land. Its hum grew louder and louder as it got dangerously close to the ground.
There was commotion in the carriage. The passengers also noticed the hum. People turned to the windows, some pressed their faces against it. They found the whole thing strange as well. It was not just me. I whipped my head back outside, spotting the flying vehicle once more. It was really close, growing larger really fast. And it was heading for the bridge. Right in our path.
Their gasps and exclamations intermingled. “Blimey!” a man yelled. “My god!” said another. “It’s coming our way!” a woman gasped. “Stop the train!” “What the—?!” “Operator!” “Bloody—”
I hung onto the handlebar. For a brief second, I thought about jumping. My muscles tensed for flight, almost lunging me forward. At the last moment, my tight grip saved me from a bold leap as my head reasoned, even as I came face to face with the flying machine, clad in armor, with sticks of metal sticking off its sides, its rows of propellers ferociously roaring, kicking up my hair, drowning out all other noise: it will be close.
Something grasped my head and pushed it down. An arm reached around me. As bewildered as I was, I kept my eyes locked on the flying machine, following it as high as I could as it flew just overhead the train. A screen of smoke followed, peppered with bits of debris. I knew well enough to shut my eyes and duck my head. I let go one of my hands to grab my hat and lower it, instead grabbing someone’s hand. A sudden gust of wind battered my side, knocking me into the carriage, into what I thought was someone else. They gave a bit, but held me steady. I could hear bits of metal lightly pelt the side of the carriage. Screams followed. The women were screaming. Men cursing.
The wind subsided as quickly as it hit. I looked up, seeing the city roll by as if nothing happened. The roar of the flying machine still rang through my ears, though it sounded a lot different now, its moan growing deeper. I quickly turned around only to bump my head into something warm, something soft. A piece of clothing, dark in colour. I flashed my eyes upwards, landing in the eyes of a man. I blinked, and they blinked, before he too turned away to glare at the other side of the carriage. I looked over his shoulder, spotting the flying machine once again, bellowing dark smoke from its right wing, on its way for a crash course in the river. Before it did, however, the buildings enveloped the tram, blocking our view. I never heard the impact. Only the sounds of the carriage.
I took a breath. My chest was heaving. Silent gasps escaped my open mouth. I drew in my elbow and realised my hand was still on top of the man’s. Quickly letting go, he seemed to realise as well, promptly releasing my head and turning back to me. He looked like a young man, clean shaven, though his broad chin made him look a little older. His hair was hidden by his dark bowler. He had thick but narrow brows, drawn together to crease his forehead, like he was thinking. His dark blue eyes locked with mine again, gazing deep into me, judging my next move. I realised he was awfully close, reflexively backing off. His eyes widened a bit as I remembered where I was standing. His other arm kept me from walking off the ledge of the bridge plate, gripping me tighter and pulling me into the carriage. I obeyed, but sheepishly looked away. The man let go of my shoulder and straightened, gripping the back of a seat and giving me some space.
“Sorry.” His accent was fairly harmonic. The articulation of an upperclassman.
I straightened as well. Knees wobbling, I kept my grip, staring at his coat to avoid his gaze. “All right,” I briefly replied.
He wore a brown trench coat, despite the summer weather. A white shirt, a beige vest, and a brown tie, one could have concluded that brown was his favourite colour. Though they looked simple, I could tell by the material they were not cheap.
“For a moment there, I thought you were going to leap.”
Raising my eyes to his neck, I caught my breath, realising I was still shaky. I drew my lips in and took a deep breath, slightly nodding. It took me a moment before I could reply. “I considered it.”
He exhausted a stuttered laugh. He was a bit shaken as well. “Mental.”
I let out a breath at his simple reply, giggling a little as well. “Well… I don’t profess to be completely sane.”
A genuine smile grew on his face. “Would’ve been a bad tumble.” Despite his careful yet gentle articulation, the way he spoke so informally caught me off guard.
A natural gust of wind blew my hair into my face. As I reached to brush it behind my ear, I felt the basket slipping down my arm. Glancing downward, I saw the flowers had spilled out a little over the ledge of my basket. I propped the basket handle back up to my elbow and hastily shoveled everything back in. The man caught this movement and dropped his eyes with mine.
“Beautiful flowers you have there.”
I looked up, smiling through the curtain of hair covering my face. “Thank you.”
Behind him, the tram operator yelled the first stop. “Chelsea Street!”
The man raised his gaze, staring past me. “Sorry, I’ll need to hop off here.”
I stepped off to the side, nodding. “Sure.” Other passengers gathered at the door as the tram slowed to a halt, letting off steam.
“You take care now, right?” He jumped off, glancing one last time before turning tail. I responded with a muted farewell, sure he would not hear me as people brushed between the man and me.
“Thanks.”