On my commute home last night, the train conductor dropped a ticket in front of me, bent down on his knee to retrieve it, and without missing a beat, asked me to marry him. My seat mate chuckled and the conductor grinned, but who’s to say he was kidding? True, we hardly know each other, and maybe this is a classic conductor’s move, but I liked his quick wit, his forthright declaration, and the way he wielded his hole punch, clicking his way down the aisle. So I’m considering his proposal and imagining what our life together would be like. I picture us riding the rails north and south of Boston, heading to Portland for a day trip, or to New York City for the weekend on his free train pass. At least, I assume we’d get to ride the rails for free. If not, the engagement is off.


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