Strange Company

You saw it. Saw it with your own eyes, as opposed to someone else's, which would certainly be one hell of an anecdote to tell at parties, wouldn't it, but anyway you did--you saw it and it wasn't moving but it wasn't coal cars.

It was a boxcar, a single boxcar sitting on the train tracks in front of your apartment complex. Just sitting there as if it had been there the whole time, an unassuming lump of steel and god knows what else. Why? Who in all the drecks of this planet would just leave a boxcar sitting on the train tracks in front of your apartment complex just yards away from where those apparitious coal cars had once been? Where the hell is the train and how the hell is it going to get its boxcar? The mind boggles.

But then again it's also the same day that the sun was shining bright and it wasn't too cold out but there were still clouds the color of pitch lumbering through the sky so who has time to think of boxcars, really? It was going to rain at any moment and yet it's been hours since you were outside but it is plain to see that the sun is still shining just as carefree as it's been since nine a m that morn.

But damn, that boxcar.