The tracks

Photo by Valentin Sirbu via Unsplash

The wrong side of the tracks.
I had heard this all my life. I was in love with him and that's where was from: the wrong side.

In primary, it made very little sense to me. Railroad tracks weren't that wide. What difference did it make it we were only a few meters apart?

After school, we agreed to take a walk there and inspect that railroad. If we could figure out what make one side worse than the other, we could correct the problem.

"See anything?"

"Not really. Both sides look the same to- hold! I think I found it!"

I rushed to where the bars had parted a bit. A tree branch had fallen into the space and stuck out over the bars. A passing train would have snapped the branch easily, and without a bit of trouble. However, I was certain that this would have been some tragedy that could easily be avoided if I could manage to get the stick out.

I pulled and yanked with all my strength. Suddenly the branch gave way and sent me whirling backwards, ass over tea kettle.

Banged up slightly, I still managed to smooth my skirts and offer up an embarrassing giggle. He rushed to my side to help me up.

"Thank you." I said with all the dignity I could muster. I pointed to the space between the bars now with a victorious cheer. "Hurrah! See? It's fixed! You are now a citizen of the RIGHT side of the tracks."

"My queen." He went to his knee and bowed his head in mock adoration.

Certainly, as we grew older, I realized what they meant. However, I was too far gone to care. Our lives had been on opposite sides of the spectrum, but they converged in all the ways that mattered.
Love was simple. Life was hard.

Complexities would come and they would require appropriate solutions. I knew that removing a tree branch from between the rails wouldn't be enough to put the world right every time. We had grown more realistic as we aged from those primary school minds. But I also knew that the distance between the tracks was exactly 1420 mm. And if he walked on his side, and I walked on mine, we were close enough to still hold hands.

That was good enough for me.

This was a flash fiction written for the prompt : Railroad from @theinkwell and their [Prompt #14](@theinkwell/the-ink-well-prompt-14-railroad

3 columns
2 columns
1 column