Gemotions

The train chugged rhythmically, the gentle rocking a lullaby against his weary bones. He was slumped in his seat, the newspaper falling from his lax grip. Sunlight streamed through the window, warm against his cheek, but his vision was hazy. A woman stood before him, her face framed by fiery red hair, familiar yet alien. He knew that face. "Michael?" she asked, her voice tentative. He pushed himself up, but it took all his strength. His head swam. "Do… do I know you?" he asked, struggling to keep his eyes open. The words felt like a distant echo, far away from his own tired thoughts.