Post #2366689

2026-04-24 00:00 UTC

You walk to the far wall of the station and wipe the dust off the display case with your sleeve. Inside is a cavalcade of yellowing newspaper clippings, sepia-tone photos, and other similarly tinged memorabilia. The station, you deduce, was a popular stop for circus trains back in the era that was a thing. Suspenders and bloomers and lots of straw hats. Very Ken Burns. You've never been to a circus, except the bendy-people ones in Vegas. Still, it's evocative. The train signals time to board.

Replies (1)

@michelestrider@mastodon.social 2026-04-25 00:00

You squeeze into the crowded Lounge Car. It seems like every new passenger has gathered there. It's raucous and lively, full of wild laughter. You claim the last empty seat. The person to your left has rainbow hair. The person to your right is clutching a rubber chicken. At the bar, bottles are juggled indiscriminately. Endless colorful handkerchiefs fly about. Balloon animals happen. There is honking. They're not music festival hipsters. No. Clowns. The lounge has become an actual clown car.

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