When she was a little girl, Claire hopped on a train and rode far as she could, watching the countryside roll past the carriage windows. The castle ruins loomed as the train rounded the hill, wheels click-clacking on glinting tracks.
Claire’s mother remembered before the ruins, when it was just a hill. Claire loved sitting in the ruins, running her hands through the grass, feeling glue and newspaper beneath.
The train passed through a tunnel of shadows and corkboard, then whistled into sunlight. Claire sighed. The station was coming up again.
She’d gone far as she could. A full loop.
Word Count: 100
This is for Friday Fictioneers. Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for running the challenge and Sandra Cook for providing the wonderful photo!