The 14:20 to Zurich, Part 2

Flash fiction by Bruce Kasanoff

Part 1 of of this story is here.

There I am on a train pulling into Zurich station. I’m barely awake, with a new tattoo I didn’t have when I got onto the train a few hours earlier. 

I trace the letters with my finger. This is one of the few moments in this life when I have a piece of evidence that my reality just bent in a manner that logic alone cannot explain.

Nervous that I may still be dreaming, I pull out my phone and take a picture of the tattoo. It takes a few tries before I frame the image properly, but my phone sees it, too. That’s a relief.

Proof. My brain still craves logic, evidence. “Facts.”

An hour ago, deep into this mysterious encounter, I was 100% certain: across from me was Kira, my soulmate across 5,000 lives.

Now, except for the tattoo, it feels like a product of my active imagination. Kira? The name had never crossed my mind before.

Maybe she left other clues? I check the seat, under it, the little trash bin. Maybe there's a ticket stub, a discarded newspaper with something circled, or perhaps even that little slip of paper is somewhere nearby. 

Nope.

But here's the thing. The real clues aren't physical. If this really was a meeting with my companion across thousands of lives, the important clues are not going to be in the form of everyday materials and business receipts. Who knows how much energy it took for her to tattoo my arm? I bet she only did that to prove it wasn’t all just a dream.

If I was going to pick up clues, they were most likely to be in the form of feelings, instincts, intuition and perhaps waves of energy. Signs so subtle that they are only recognizable when I detach from the distractions of daily life.

I need time to think before my partners descend on me and the bankers start calling. 

Where can I go to hide and think? NO! I need to feel.

Lindenhofplatz.

A historic square perched on a hill overlooking the Limmat River and the Old Town. It's surprisingly peaceful.

The energy there is ancient, grounded. 

I exit the train station and head towards the city center, then walk down Bahnhofstrasse, the main shopping street. I turn on Paradeplatz and soon the street becomes steeper as I approach the Old Town. Ten minutes later, I’m there on a small hill in Old Town.

I find a bench under one of the linden trees, close my eyes, and just breathe. Let the city sounds fade away. Let the history of this place speak to me. There's a reason this spot has been a gathering place for centuries. 

LOVE EXISTS ONLY IN THE ABSENCE OF WORDS

The words tattooed onto my arm fill my awareness again. 

My initial interpretation was that they mean it’s hard to describe true love with words. But that’s not right. 

They imply  a level of love that surpasses the limitations of language, something deeply felt rather than articulated. Maybe something that transcends reality?

In profound connections, there is an intuitive understanding. As humans, before we develop language, we experience connection and affection. Love is a primal emotion that predates words and exists independently of them.

Good insight, but still too many words. I push them out of my brain and slip into silence.

Time elapses, how much I’m not sure.

Sink into the feeling. Move towards what calls to me most deeply. Let the path unfold. The answers always come when you're ready to truly see them. And maybe, just maybe, you'll start to understand why I chose a crowded train in Switzerland for our little rendezvous. There was a good reason. You will find it.

I open my eyes. It’s dark. Those weren’t my words. They were Kira’s. 

We can communicate!