The train comes out of nowhere, a shadowy form catches the last car, almost landing on top of another shadow that is hiding in the darkness. A soft grunt can be heard as they roll away from each other in the straw. A third shadow asks the newcomer for a cigarette, part of a cigar, some shreds of tobacco. He shakes his head that he has nothing for the man, if he did he wouldn’t give it to him. Three shadows come at the man, wanting to see for themselves what he has, and if it is worth taking. They trade punches, curse at each other, as the train cuts a path toward its destination. The hot August night turns the air to steam as the men gasp for it, watching for the man with the flashlight. He will throw them out of the boxcar as if they are broken twigs needing to be swept away with the garbage littering the ground. The train rumbles on through the night. The men will scatter once the light from the sun appears. They are no longer shadows, they have to wait for another midnight train.
