The constant clicking of the tracks comforted me, as the rest of my eye were blinded by the cart’s walls. I could hear Mike sleeping just a bit away.

We usually took turns falling asleep. Just in case the train made an unexpected stop during which we didn’t wake up. One would assume that the sound of a train grinding against the track would drive anyone out of sleep, but after two days of walking it’s easy to get lost in your dreams.

Mike started snoring, he always chose to sleep first.

By morning, we both had sufficient sleep. We sat across from each other in the cart. He played his harmonica and I listened and critiqued it. He never liked that. I always loved joking about how cliche he was being, playing a harmonica while hitchhiking on a freight train. We got a few laughs out of that.

We always needed some laughs.