Short Story Dispensary - Passing Cars by Randall Andrews

I lost time to a steady rhythmic swing and clicking of cars traveling over rails. Passing scenery like a thief with no passion for roots, just a traveler fictionalizing what might be in the stationary figures I skidded past. Doesn't change for me, every day I slip back to her, and though time fades away I will always be right there with her, nineteen eighty five, etched in eternity.