Two Dollars

The platform clock said 14:57. Last train to Douz. Third class. Two dollars each.

The carriage had a sliding door and timber ribs with two-finger gaps. It was built for animals. We tried to look like customers.

I had promised my girlfriend “adventure” in a brave tone. She stood on her toes to find a better slice of air. Forty-five degrees. The smell was crowded. The gaps gave us wind and mercy. We dry-reached and thanked the gaps.

After two hours there was only sand. Dunes to the horizon. Four hours total, the timetable said. I liked the certainty. It kept my thoughts domestic.

The inspector came with a guard who did not need a name. Tickets were counted like pencils. An old man had empty hands and a hat with a salt ring. I stepped forward with two dollars. Men near me shook their heads. “Do not,” they said. “Do not interfere.”

The door rolled on its track with a metal chirp. The guard made one clean movement. The old man met the sand. Through the slits I saw him bounce once. His hat rolled and stopped against a rib of dune. The train did not slow. The timetable did not blush. A boy near the door laughed at something small. The sound reached me late.

One hundred kilometres to a town. Forty-five degrees. No water. Two dollars not paid.

I held my ticket. It weighed the same as before. I told myself I had tried. I told myself I did not know the rules. Both lines were tidy. Neither bought a life.

The inspector finished his row. A stamp clicked. Bread paper rustled. Someone checked a watch. The carriage returned to normal, which now felt like a trick word. The wheels kept the plan.

In Douz we stepped down and became customers again. We praised the light and the fan in the room. We kept our tickets as proof that we were there. No one asked for proof that he had been there too.

Later I counted the facts like drawers. Two dollars. Four hours. One body. A name I never learned. A country I barely knew how to spell. A heat that kept its appointments.

I keep the number in my mouth. It tastes like copper and keeps its change.

F.S.F.