The train sped by faster than any other train on the rails that day.

A station stood erect on either sides of the tracks, for the exiting and entering passengers. Forest green benches lined the walkway for the excessivley tired or the excessivley eager to lounge upon.

Now these benches were uniform, all green with spiral appendages. Nothing special about any of them, except for the stories they were told. I was one of these benches. We forest benches may have been ordinary and oblique, but the people that use to sit on them were not. Many a scandal or rumor was spred through those benches.Life stories re-told.All the knowledge we could’ve shared!If only someone listened!

But sadly we bland forest green benches do not line the tan walled station anymore. Our voices have been silenced, and the stories have been lost. There is no way to recollect those forgotten memories, a speeding train made sure of that. Some say you can still see our green appendages under all the wreckage.

But no one will ever check.