Chapter 2

• "I should have written about the first one... It should have been more interesting," he said, taking a few notes and putting them away.
• - Yes, I imagine. But I couldn't write about it because I wasn't there. And I think it would be hard to find someone who was.
• “Maybe you'll find someone who was there that day. It's not impossible.
• — Very difficult... Only if it's someone who was a child at the time and would be over 100 years old, which is almost impossible. But anyway, thanks.
• Natasha left. He couldn't believe he was doing this, trying to find out about the train. He was still uncomfortable with that subject. But she decided: she would make the last trip on the train, write a few lines telling how boring such a journey was and put her opinion on how important it was for the blue train to give way to a new and modern highway that connected the two states.
• After having stopped by the house and picked up some clothes, she headed for the train station, which was more on the outskirts of the city. She was tired of the journey. That station had already been restored at least 4 times in 10 years from what I knew. And it was still terrible. The perfect portrait of antiquity, with rusty and badly treated rails, construction a little wood, a little masonry, mixed. They tried to keep the original construction, culturally and historically, but it didn't work. She wondered what the train would look like compared to the station and tracks. And he was even afraid of the journey.
• Natasha heard the sound of the train whistle in the distance. He saw the huge locomotive arriving slowly and noisily stopping at the station. It was the first time she had seen the blue train up close.
• And I understood perfectly why it was called the blue train... It was the predominant color outside and in several details inside. I thought he would be in worse shape internally. But while there were still some bits of wood inside, which left her incredulous, it was up to standards for what quality it had been for as long as it had been.
• The smell was of mildew mixed with fresh paint. Strange to the smell. Different. She took a deep breath in the air... She liked the smell she had never smelled before.
• Natasha sat down on an uncomfortable bench by the window. There were sleeping cabins with beds, but she would only look at these rooms. I wouldn't use it to sleep. I couldn't sleep a wink that night... Not in this place. Much less in a cabin that was probably cramped and uncomfortable. He preferred to spend his time on the restaurant bench. He still had about 15 minutes before departure, if he didn't delay. He read that in the past there was even separation of classes on train journeys. She was impressed. Although it had a current design for the time, the train had some traces of the past that seemed untouchable. Was it from the maiden voyage of 1911? The lights looked like old oil lamps. It looked like they had been using them for over 50 years.
• The girl looked at everything attentively, but still saw no reason to be there. I wasn't even sure if I should take notes and write about what the train was like inside, because I believed that almost everyone had been in that machine at least one day in their life, with the exception of her.
• When in doubt, it was better to write it down. He would certainly forget the details, as they didn't interest him much, so it would be difficult to commit them to memory.
• Started writing...
• — Excuse me... Can I sit next to you?
• Natasha looked up and stared at the lady looking to be in her 80s or older. God, how I hated to be interrupted while writing! And she didn't understand why the person wanted to sit next to her while the train was practically empty. But it was polite:
• “You can,” he said, ducking his head down to his notes.
• The old lady sat right next to her. Natasha pretended not to notice her presence and continued writing. Not satisfied, the person lowered his head almost entering his notebook, without disguising that he was trying to read. Natasha unceremoniously closed the pad and left it resting on her knees, placing her pen on top.
• But the woman kept looking at the pad. And then her eyes fixed on Natasha's, who realized she was being watched intently. She was very upset and found herself asking:
• "All right, ma'am?"
• - Yes yes...
• Natasha took a deep breath. I had no desire to make that trip. And having that nasty lady for company would not be good at all. She decided to pretend she wasn't bothered and went back to writing.
• — Why do you write about the train? asked the woman.
• Natasha sighed. She hated traveling with anyone anywhere. He preferred to be with his own thoughts. For her, writing a script sitting alone was therapy. In fact, he loved solitude. So can you imagine what would happen if you started a conversation with the elderly woman. She knew old people loved to talk for hours, which she hated.
• "I like to write things down," he said, not looking at the woman.
• I wanted to sound ironic, but I didn't know if I had succeeded.
• "This train wasn't like that...
• Natasha closed her eyes and laid her head back on the seat. Thought about changing places ... But how to do that without being rude?
• "And to think that this is the last trip on the blue train..." she said in a plaintive tone.
• Natasha didn't answer or move. He made it very clear that he didn't want to talk. He closed his eyes.
• The lady continued:
• “It's practically a day to Tulip now… We'll get there at 10 pm tomorrow night.
• The train whistled again, startling Natasha. And slowly it began to move along the rails, making an annoying and annoying noise. Would it be like this for the next 24 hours? She couldn't bear it.
• "Don't worry, the noise will stop soon," warned the old lady, as if guessing her thoughts.
• Natasha opened her eyes and lifted her head, a little impressed.
• "You know, this train shouldn't stop... It has so many stories to tell," the woman said with a regretful sigh.
• Natasha looked into the eyes of her unwanted companion. A strange feeling invaded his body. I knew she had a lot to tell... And that she wanted to tell. And certainly among his stories, there was a little bit about the blue train.
• He decided to talk a little, because surely the little lady wouldn't give up talking during the trip. What Natasha could hardly imagine is that that woman's story merged at the origin and end of the blue train.
• "Do you know a lot about this train?" asked Natasha.
• - If I know? She laughed... A pretty smile, white teeth within already puckered lips. “This train is my life, girl. The most important moments of my existence were here.
• "So you traveled a lot in it?"
• “My name is Sarah,” the old lady announced, holding her hand out to Natasha, who squeezed the icy hand.
• "Then tell me," she asked, not interested in the woman's name.
• "I don't talk to people whose names I don't know," she snapped, still smiling gently.
• — My name is Natasha.
• "Natasha..." he spelled out slowly. — I have a granddaughter named Natalia.
• Natasha did not understand the comparison.
• "I can't believe this is the blue train's last trip," she wailed again.
• “The last one,” confirmed Natasha. — From the blue train. — He understood that you might not be so lucid anymore, due to your age.
• The train whistled again, making Natasha give another startled start.
• "Are you scared?" she asked sweetly.
• “I hate this noise. What is it for? Is there a need for this?
• "I love that sound..." said the little lady, closing her eyes and then opening them again. "He's the one who gives me the strength to live." In fact, it's what kept me alive for so many years.
• Natasha was attentive. Surely there was his story. Honestly, I didn't have much interest in the "grandmother" who would tell the whole story of her great love, who perhaps left for war aboard the train and never came back... But the woman knew a lot about the train in the past and its real importance . It would almost be a history lesson without having to do research. I would experience every detail about the train that once had some importance for the people, the cities, the economy of the country.
• "Why is the whistle so important to you?" - He asked.
• — You know, when it whistles, the color of the train is whatever you want... And you can allow yourself to dream.
• - I didn't understand. Natasha was confused.
• — If you hear the train whistle but don't see it, you don't know what it's like... Imagine it in any other way than the real way. And he is really different from all trains.
• - Why? — Natasha understood less and less.
• "Because he's the train of my life," the lady said firmly.
• “Where are you going?” Natasha asked curiously.
• — To Tulipa, last stop on the blue train.
• — How important is the train to you? He tried a more sensible answer.
• “Please call me Sarah, honey.
• "What's the importance of the train... Sarah?" he insisted.
• "Did you know I was here on the first trip on the blue train?"
• Natasha was incredulous. Here was what she was looking for, but found impossible: someone who knew the story of the blue train. And the fact that the lady had been on the first trip was just so much better than she ever expected to get. Perfect!
• "You were on the first trip and now you're on the last?" ventured Natasha, to see if she would start telling her story right away, so as not to waste too much time.
• “This isn't just my last ride on the blue train. It's the last trip of my life.
• "Don't you ever want to travel again?" — Natasha already found herself asking questions, even though she didn't mean to.
• "No... never again." I am returning to Tulipa to finish my mission in this life and fulfill my destiny.