T/N : I can't figure out the difference between coach, carrier and bogie lmao if i wrote it wrongly anywhere, please point it out, or just explain the difference to me. Thanks a lot :)

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July and I play this little game of jumping from one bogie to another.

It is a silly game, but the first few times are actually kind of scary. We left our seats to get some coffee, because apparently the coffees in trains are 'scrumptious', as July said in his British accent, not forgetting to do a chef's kiss as he did. I left my bag in my seat, entrusted to Mr. Harold, who July thinks is trustworthy. Since he is lot better at understanding people than me, I didn't argue with that.

But after all the lies Dawn told me, I don't think I will ever trust someone fully again.

We can easily buy coffee from the next station the train stops in, but July claims that the coffee made inside the trains are somehow special. He has only ridden a train once in his life, when he came to my town to give some of the university entrance exams. When I got to know that, I was pretty shocked. July had stayed in the same town as me for three whole days, and though it was about two hours away from where I live, 'the world is so small' didn't come true for us. Maybe we have even walked past each other at some point. It is a terrifying thought, even more so, now that July is dead.

It makes me wonder, if he had passed even one of the exams, he would probably be out of his abusive household, living in the dorms in my town, and we might have met under different circumstances, circumstances that don't include him being dead. But fate did us dirty.

The thought is painful, so I don't go too far with it. Perhaps it is the same for him, which is why he didn't tell me before.

The place where they make and sell coffee is at the very last carrier, which is called the carboose. Or at least, that's where it was in the train July rode. There is also supposed to be a small snack shop in there. Usually, you can just order it from your seat, but July isn't sure about that, as he thinks it might be just a privilege for the first class passengers. And anyways, we wanted to stretch our legs a little, so a walk inside a trembling moving train isn't so bad.

The bogies are connected by this metallic joint thingy. It's called a Buckle Joint, as July informed. Though it is no big deal jumping from one bogie to the other with our long legs, a momentum is always felt which makes your legs unstable. Needless to say, if you miss the footing, your leg will get fall downwards in the space between the two bogies, and what happens next can be left up to our gruesome imaginations. This is what makes it so thrilling.

I do the first jump pretty easily, my heart throbbing inside my chest as I turn back and wait for July to do it. He has a grin on his face as he raises his leg and skips over the joint, reaching me. We chuckle and open the door to get inside the next coach. We walk through the corridor, passing strangers engaged in their own activities. This coach was more crowded than the one we are sitting in.

When moving to the next bogie, as I was slightly distracted by the train's whistle, my leg almost slips.

My soul momentarily leaves my body. With a scream, July pushes me forward and I somehow manage to place my feet properly on the other side. Putting a hand on my pounding chest, I breathe heavily as July and I stare each other wide-eyed.

"That was close," he says.

"It was." Oh my God. Then he does it easily, and we continue. After the first few times, it gets easier. After six bogie-jumpings, we reach the final coach.

Just like July said, at one end of it, there is a small shop. There is a counter, behind which a man wearing a red t-shirt is sitting and using his phone. Around him are packets of chips, cakes, chocolates and sodas. And there is also a coffee machine. I order a coffee and some more snacks for emergencies. I notice how after filling a small plastic cup with the coffee, the guy proceeds to add some more condensed milk and sugar to the cup. Diabetes patients need to stay away.

We don't go back to our seats. Instead, we go to the begining of the coach, where the door of this carriage is.

This area is rather small and intimate. We stand on either sides of the closed door, on which there is a blurry square window showing the fast-motion scenery outside. Opposite to us is the door to the lavatory, which July keeps insisting me to use in case I don't find any other place to release later. But I honestly do not want to pollute the rail tracks more than they already are, and not to mention how dirty these bathrooms will be. On our left is the coach we are in right now, and on our right is the next coach connected by the . . . what was it again? Right, Block Joint. Ah no- Buckle Joint.

As usual, I think of Dawn. How would it be if he was with me right now? He would surely be extremely scared about the bogie-jumping. He would have started shaking and perhaps even scold me lots after seeing me nearly slip to my death. He would have been excited to try out the coffee, even though he doesn't- didn't like it. If it was an overnight journey he would have stayed awake the whole night listening to some lofi music to match the mood of a train ride at night. He would have talked with Mr. Harold till they became as comfortable as needed to know about the story of his lost hand and his lost friend.

But he would have never put his head on my shoulder.

He would have had so much fun. He missed out on so many things just to accompany me. We never even went to an amusement park together. Small pleasures like going to arcades, taking part in school plays, or even something as simple as taking a walk together outside — he sacrificed it all just to stay with me. Perhaps if I knew how less time he had, I would have paid more attention to him.

But there is no point of thinking that now.

"Train journeys are fun, aren't they?" July asks.

I nod, looking into the coach to make sure no one is coming our way. Still to be safe, I take out my phone and put it to my ear. "More fun than I expected. I don't think bus or plane journeys would be that fun."

"That's true. There's not much to do in buses or planes. But hey, have you ever rode a ship?"

"I have! I once accompanied Dad on a short cruise. I was quite young though, so I don't remember it that well." I smile at a memory. Back then, mom used to be kinder with me. "I remember, we were standing on the head of the ship, and Dad had picked me up on his lap to show me the ocean ahead. The wind was strong and there were seagulls overhead. We even fed chips to some of them. The water was such a deep blue, though the sky was very light. I had a lot of fun. I guess it is one of the very few good memories I have with Dad."

And I have none with Mom. Sometimes I really pitied my father. He just cannot talk back to mom and do anything against what she wants, just like me and Dale. It's because he loves her too much. I wonder if mom has talked to him yet or not. I wonder when he'll be coming back. When he gets to know I ran away, will it remind him of himself?

"I really wish I could journey on a ship once," July says, staring out through the small window on the door. "Makes me wanna go to those times when people took the ship for long journeys and would stay on the ocean for days and weeks."

From the way he talks, it is evident how much he loves the water. But this is one of the things in which I have nothing I can do. For one, Greenwoods isn't a coastal area. And we don't have much time.

I stare at the window as well. I bring the phone a little away from my ear, and check the time to be half-past eight. Two hours have already passed?

As I try to make out the scenery outside, I feel surprised to find rows of trees instead of buildings. So we are already out of the urbanized areas. Now this journey feels more real than before. I have already left my town, and I am going to a completely unknown place, my only companion a ghost who won't be able to save me in all situations owing to the limitations of his existence.

I blow on my coffee and take the first sip carefully. As soon as it touches my tongue, I exclaim a satisfying "Mmmm!" I take one more sip with a smile, and tell July, "This is so delicious!"

He chuckles. "I told you, right?"

The light brown colored coffee is sweet and has the creamy taste of condensed milk, and it just feels so good in my tongue. I quickly finish it, and feel the craving for a second. But I decide against it, wanting to spend as less money as I can.

"Aren't you gonna use the bathroom?" July asks.

"No. Never." I firmly shake my head.

"Then don't blame me if you have to pee on the roadside."

"I will just use the station's toilet."

"Which will be much more dirty than a train's toilet, sweetheart."

I sigh. Guess I can't be so whiny and will have to adjust to these troublesome things now that I am on my own. But I still refuse, with the logic that all of it is gonna be dumped on the rail tracks, because our country's railway hygiene is very admirable. In the end, July gives up.

We go back to our coach and back to our seat. I see that the seats beside us on the other side of the aisle is now occupied by three middle-aged men. My bag is right where I left it, in the exact same position, and Mr. Harold is looking out the window.

"Had a fun trip?" he asks with a smile.

"Very," I reply, sitting down. I really want to check my bag to see if my money is intact, but it would be very rude to do it in front of him.

As if hearing my thoughts, Mr. Harold checks his watch and says, "Sweet heavens, a quarter to nine! Better go take a leak." He looks at me and mutters an 'Excuse me' as he stands and leaves.

When he is out of sight, I zip open my bag and count the money without taking it out. I haven't kept all the money in one place. I have divided them into four sections and kept them in four different places of the bag. All of it is there. I let out a sigh of relief.

Mr. Harlold comes back almost ten minutes later. It must take him a while to finish his business with one hand. So far, he still hasn't initiated any conversation about his hand, so I am not going to ask him either.

Almost as soon as he returns to our seats, a voice is heard at the intercom.

"Dear passengers, we are approaching the  Jeremiah bridge, so we will move slowly while passing it. Please refrain from using the washroom while we are on the bridge. Moreover, please do not throw anything out of the window into the river. Thank you for your cooperation. Have a safe travel!"

"We are finally on the bridge!" July exclaims. I excitedly open the window  to look out at one of the biggest rivers of this country. Mr. Harold does the same.

The cold wind hits my face as we move. The scenery on my side isn't anything nice at this place. There is only a huge cement industry which has been built right beside the river, like many other industries which are polluting the water. I really never knew cement industries can be that big. I thought cement was easy to make or something.

I turn and see July trying to extend his neck to see out the window. I belatedly realize i should have let him sit beside the window. After all, I had a book to read; he didn't. As soon as the realization hits, I curse myself. I scoot at one side and move a little more towards the edge of the seat , pressing my side against the train's metallic wall, and pat the small space beside me on the seat. He smiles and comes to my seat. I remain bent forward so he can keep his back pressed against the seat and both of us can look out the window properly.

The train suddenly shakes once as it enters the bridge, and the speed is slowly reduced. I wait for the launches and ships parked on the riverbank to pass. But when I get the first glimpse of the river, fear rises in me and I look away from the window.

"Why is it so close?" I whisper, shocked.

"It really is . . . close," July mutters.

The rail tracks are right beside the edge of the bridge, but the worst thing is that the bridge has no railing whatsoever. No, there is a railing, but it is way too short, so when I looked out the window it felt as if the river is right beside me, but from a great height.

If one thing minutely goes wrong, the train can just plop down into the river without facing even a basic barrier.

Mr. Harold sighs. "When the bridge was made twenty years ago, a long-term hassle went on between the the common people and the ministry of Road Transport and Bridges but they took no steps to create a railing here. It was all over the media, even in some international ones. They keep saying they'll do it someday, but 'someday' never comes." He shakes his head, a reproachful look on his face. The entire coach has broke down into charters, and I hear the sound of windows being closed. A baby begins to cry in the back. Must be terrifying sight for it.

I sneak another brave glance. Chills run down my spine. The water is so close, as if I am standing on the ledge of the bridge, preparing to jump. The water is a shade of dark brown, with balls of white standing in a queue from the bridgelamps. The river looks ominous, almost inviting, and is obviously very deep. What's worse, the train is moving at the speed of a turtle. Dawn would have undoubtedly been terrified of this.

"How long will it take to pass the bridge, Mr. Harold?" I ask.

"About half an hour. It's a long bridge."

"Ugh." I glance behind at July, who has been quiet for a while. I find his eyes firmly fixed on the river, as if he is looking at the most interesting thing in this world.

I whisper, "July . . .?"

"Moon jumped from a bridge," he abruptly says, not taking his eyes off the river.

For a moment, I am so taken aback by the statement that I stand up on an impulse. Mr. Harold looks up at me. "What's wrong, Cedar?"

"N-nothing." I occupy July's seat. He is still looking out at the river with great curiosity. What the hell is he thinking, telling me that when I'm already so freaked out?

Moon jumped from a bridge. The tone he said those words in scared me more. The tone had a hint of insanity mixed with deep sorrow, and it is my first time hearing it from him.

Only a minute ago, everything was so normal. The fear from this dangerous bridge was mixed with a sort of thrill and adrenaline. And one sentence ruined it all, making this train feel suffocating despite the open window.

At this point, I really just hate windows.

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hello lovely readers!

This whole chapter is based on true events! this chapter is very special to me. Idk how many of you remember this, but I dedicated the first book to an uncle of mine, right? I have few memories left of that uncle, and I included some of it in the first book. The bogie-jumping thing is something I did with him! It was so scary, but I was trying to look brave while doing it. While his daughter, aka my cousin, was shaking in fear XD

Train coffees are so delicious. Also the part about the bridge. The Bangabandhu bridge (which is the longest bridge in Bangladesh) has no proper railing. It goes over the river Jamuna (that's why I named to river Jermiah here lol) and it was a very terrifying experience for me.

Writing about things that actually happened to me is so nostalgic. I cried a little too, thinking about my uncle, even though it was a happy memory.

Anyways, thanks a lot for reading. See you next chapter!

-- love, Poma