Thread by @justabloodygame

Tuesday morning came in a flash. Maggie found herself, as always, running late as she rushed to pack for her trip north. The departure time was just 45 minutes away when she finished. All her clothes into two large suitcases, along with a well-worn copy of the book of the dead.

Piling her suitcases into the Lyft with the driver's help, she shot a quick text off to Bill, explaining she had been called out of town on short notice for family business, telling him the spare key was was in the flower pot on the front porch and to call if he needs anything.

Bill immediately responded: "Gotcha ;-). If you ever want to talk about... whatever, I'm here."

Maggie stared out the window pensively, watching Baltimore fly by. Her mother's home, and her mother's. On her way to Penn Station, she couldn't help but wonder: was this goodbye?

The Lyft pulled into the drop-off in front of the station, the driver helped her drag her bags to the curb, then bade her goodbye with a smile.

She stopped to admire the train station, though not too long, with only 20 minutes before departure. She felt a strange kinship for it.

The station itself reminded her of the contrasts of recent years in her own life. Features of classical architecture, doric columns and pilasters, between the second and third floors clashed with the modern statue Male/Female, built in front of the station just over a decade ago.

The blank androgyny of the statue cast long shadow as she entered the station, wondering, as she often wondered. How was it that a pious widow, a grandmother, a lover of all things confectionary, became a beacon in this world for such darkness?

At Rome's funeral, Maggie's mother had taken her aside after the service, she was ailing, senile and nearly blind. Still, she gripped her daughter's arm with a fiercely possessive strength.

"My girl, I'm sorry my poor girl..." She wept. "I wish there was something I, I could-"

"It's okay Mama," The whole service, Maggie had felt numb. Like grief hung over her in dark clouds, rain just waiting to fall. In her mother's words, she felt precipitation dampen her cheeks.

"It's okay Mama," She repeated, "It was- it was his time."

But her Mother still held her fast, pulling in her for a hug. She whispered through chapped lips in her daughter's ear.

"You don't know, but you will, what swims up from the dark. Drawn by your despair, by ours."

"Mama, what are you-"

But the elder woman just shook her head.

"You don't know yet. You can't. I won't let them, but when they do..."

She stopped, her dark eyes cloudy, and shook her head.

"Sorry dear... what was I saying?"

Maggie patted her Mother's arm loving.

"Honestly Mama? I have no idea. Come on now, folks are waiting for us."

A stroke felled the 77 year old women just a few short weeks later.

And soon after, consumed by despair, Maggie learned just what her warning had meant.

"Excuse me ma'am?"

Maggie blinked. She was on the train? How? The conductor, a young man with tanned brown skin and attractive hazel eyes smiled down at her where she sat alone in a window seat staring distracted out at the platform.

"Oh, apologies young man. I was miles away."

She handed him her ticket, which he inspected, tore at the perforated line and hole-punched, wearing the same dazzling smile.

"No worries ma'am. Good time to go to Boston. Storm's brewing, looks like. You have a great trip!"

As he made his way on down the aisle, Maggie contemplated the sky. Dark clouds gathered, in sober reflection of her mood and thoughts. The sky opened up, pouring rain in torrents down on the car and rails as the train pulled out of Penn Station, heading north.