The young woman walked slowly towards the train station, as she had done every day since he had... gone. That had been over four, long, torturous years ago, and she quickly forced her mind to suppress her anger and sadness. The trains, the trains were all that mattered in her lonely world.

A train had taken him from her to go off to fight that dirty war. And she knew in her heart that one day a train would bring him back to her. He had told her not to wait for his return, for it may never come. But, she, Therese, had vowed to him her undying loyalty and love, there that day, on those same tracks.

It was just after sunrise and she heard the first of the morning trains coming toward her. Then it was there in a whoosh and with her hair streaming behind her in the wind, she threw the single red rose that she had carried inside her shirt, over her heart. As she had done each day. Then, also as she had done each day, she walked disconsolately home to her barren, lifeless apartment, and sat down to weep into her hands. Waiting for the night to come again so the morning could follow it. Sometimes she slept, other times she did not.

At last it was morning again, and Therese picked a rose from the street market as she wound her lonesome path to the train-yard. Everyone who watched her every day had long ago given up on any hope that she would start accepting his obvious death and begin her grieving process. Such a beautiful woman, and still so young and vital. They sighed. And they were always polite to her, and crossed themselves, praying to their God for an end to her sorrow. Another morning train, another red rose. Once again Therese walked with her head bowed, back to the apartment they had once shared together. Once so vibrant and filled with life's essence, it was now as desolate as a tomb, dark and depressingly cold...

One morning, there was a commotion outside her apartment, and she listlessly walked over to look out the window. People were screaming, crying, and wailing. Others were pointing toward the train-yard and wildly gesticulating. Then en masse the crowd began to surge noisily down the avenue to the trains.

Therese sensed their urgency and threw her clothes on, rushing out the door and into the street. She found herself running breathlessly, not even understanding yet what the commotion was all about.

Then she arrived at the station and saw everyone standing around, with shocked expressions and numbed minds. For behind the locomotive were three open cars, and each of them carried dead soldiers. An officer was distributing lists to the crowd, and she grabbed one from an elderly woman, and clutched it tightly in her hands to read. Her eyes were blurry, but she wiped them and moved on down the list. And stopped. Her hands opened weakly and she let the list flutter down to the floor of the train station. One of the names on the list had been his. Roger was on that train that was carrying dead soldiers. The rest of what was left of her heart sank deeply into her chest, and she turned away from the train and the sight of the hundreds of dead soldiers.

She walked in a slow-motion daze toward the edge of the train platform, but nobody noticed. Everyone was caught up in their own miseries. She clutched the last rose she would ever throw in front of a train, clutched it tightly against her heart. Therese stepped closer to the edge. Then closer. Then her toes were anging over, and she steeled herself for her only chance to end her torment and finally be with Roger. The train began to move out, and slowly picked up speed. Therese waited, as she was used to doing. She waited for the last car to be rushing past her and leaned forward quickly to fall. As she was past the balance point beyond which she could not stop from falling, she heard a loud voice calling her name, even as a hand grabbed her by her coat. She screamed to be let go, and began to kick at her would-be savior, until she looked into his face. She thought that she had finally gone mad, for the face was her Roger's, and he was pulling her away from the platform and hugging her to him.

She sobbed loudly, letting it all out in great wracking spasms, but still he held her tightly. After a time she began coming back to reality and the rational part of her brain started to reason. "I saw your name! You were on the list! How can this be so?"

"Mon-Cherie," Roger assured her, "I was on the list of the wounded who were sent back. We had to ride on the death trains. Don't you see, it is I, your Roger!"

"Oh Roger, my darling sweet Roger. I was afraid you would never come back to me alive. But you have come home! And you are wounded? Where Roger, how did they hurt you?"

"I have a broken right arm, Therese, that's all."

"Your arm? Then how did you grab me and pull me back?" Therese was puzzled.

"Well, dear one, I guess I broke it again while rescuing you. Will you nurse me back to health? It hurts like hell."

"Let us go to our home now then, and I shall take care of you."

"But just one more thing, Therese?"

"What my darling, brave, soldier?"

"No more train stations for awhile okay?"

Therese sobered at that thought, and walked over to a street vendor and gave him money for all of his roses. It was now Roger's turn to be puzzled.

Therese walked to the edge of the platform, and Roger panicked, and began to run towards her. At the very edge of the platform Therese jumped up into the air and threw the roses so that they scattered over the tracks.

"I believe that now, Roger, I need never see a train again."

Together the woman and her man walked clumsily up the cobblestone street, and everyone cheered for them. The walking was clumsy because they were walking sideways, holding each other like this was their last day together. Instead of their first...