She sits on the train staring moodily out the window. Empty fields fly by - the "drought" has really affected everything. Staring at a blank patch of ground surrounded by reeds, she vaguely remembers that there was once a pond there.

She wonders what happened to the fish that used to live in the pond.

The fields are replaced by concrete monsters, pipes stretching towards the sky, belching fire like a dragon of yore. Rawr.

She watches the flames lick the clouds hungrily, and supposes that one day all of the things she is seeing now will crumble.

Everything will collapse - the dried pond, the cement beings that breathe and groan like humans, one day none of that will exist. Some things might take longer to decompose, but eventually time will grab control and everything will be GONE.

She wonders if the concrete monsters feel trapped. Do they feel large or small? Do they feel at all?

There is a chain link fence around the monsters. Do they see it? Do they see anything?

Do they hurt, just as she does?

The factory becomes a blur on the horizon and her thoughts turn towards him.

What is he doing now? Does he ever think of her?

Does he know how hard she tries not to believe in him? Does he know how she cries when she can’t tell herself that she’s wrong?

Does he care? Does she want him to care?

A dilapidated two-storey house stands proudly in a bare lot, yellow paint peeling off its walls. The sidewalk before it is empty, and the only sound is that of the train rumbling by.

Strangers enter the train every time it stops. They come and go as they please, knowing and caring not for the business of others.

And the girl, she wonders about the couple holding hands at the Laverton train station. They are wrapped in each other, their fingers entwined unbreakably.

She wonders about the balding business man who keeps checking his phone, and who he is expecting a call from.

She wonders about the young boy with the bike who stares out of the window before him as if the flickering landscape holds all the answers to life.

She wonders about the tiny old Asian woman, her hands gnarled like tree roots and her gaping smile almost toothless.

She wonders and wonders and wonders, and she never finds the answers.

But where can the answers be found, anyway?

She wonders if maybe she should ride the train more often:to buy a daily ticket and board a carriage and just sit and watch people and wonder about their lives.

The train pulls in at Footscray and she leaves the train without looking back, just another nameless face in the crowd.