The station was buzzing with voices belonging to people running about, dragging luggage and shouting at porters in hassle and hurry. Vendors roamed about, selling things and advertising their products. Bored, impatient travelers mastered the stony look of boredom and impatience as they waited for their trains to arrive.
Among so many people, she was just another person sitting on a bench and looking bored like everyone else. No one would look twice at her. There was nothing extraordinary or different about her.
Head sightly bent, arms crossed and a secret smile playing upon her lips, she closed her eyes.
She thought of dragons. Dragons and demons and angels and monsters. She thought about the book she had been reading and she thought about the characters in it. She wondered about their future beyond the last page of the book and she thought about that world in the book, full of magic and possibility. She imagined conversations. So many conversations between fictitious characters and she fantasized, fantasized about their love for each other and the feeling that coursed through her veins when she read about a thousand paper kisses and then she wondered. Wondered if one of those paper kisses would feel just the same for her and how much reality is weaved into those words of fiction.
Among so many people she struggled to get along with, she wasn’t a person who was easily bored. Because she had a place in her mind, her very own television, where she could think. Think and imagine and wonder and fantasize and dream. It was her favorite place to be, where she truly felt at peace.
Maybe she was the person who still waited for her Hogwarts Acceptance letter to arrive, maybe she was the person who secretly hoped that she was different from everyone else and that she’d find out that she, indeed, possesses powers and magical abilities. Maybe she was a person who hoped that her life- the book she was the protagonist of- would be just as stormy and full of action and love and friendship as the ones she read about.
Maybe she was the person who hoped that she would still be able to find the magic in her small, mundane life in love and beauty and possibility, if not dragons and wizards and monsters.
She had a whole world inside of her and she retracted to it, like a moth drawn to a flame, every time she was alone and needed somebody to talk to or surrounded by so many people that she needed to be alone.
In the crowded station, she might be just another person sitting on a bench and looking bored like everyone else- but she was the one thinking of magic and books and love and danger and fiction. She might not be in the safety and comfort of her home but she was already in the small haven of her mind.
“Yes, I am a dreamer. For a dreamer is one who can only find his way by the moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.”