Invisible.

Imagine.

The sun is sparkling as is rises on the lovely English countryside. Everything is wet with dew, which radiates the sun's cheerful rays. The sky above is becoming a more brilliant blue with each passing moment. Birds are happily chirping and flitting from branch to branch. There, nestled in a grove of lush trees, sits a lovely old train station. A small dirt road crosses the tracks and passes beside the old station. In the lull of the early morning, no sounds are heard from the wooden deck that borders the tracks. The old wooden benches stand empty. The air is thick with anticipation, however. Even the old station itself seems to know the exciting things that will happen next.

As if on cue, as the sun crests a small hill and fills the station with its glow, young people begin arriving. A few at a time, they come from all directions, milling about on the platform. Some are anxiously peering down the tracks, waiting for the anticipated train.

However, as time passes, the masses of people gather into clusters. As the day progresses further, strong bonds begin to develop. These bonds between young men and young women eventually result in them pairing off. Even loners who were not in clusters find someone with which to pair themselves. No one stands alone on that platform.

But there is one who is alone.

She is a simple girl. She has no incredible talent. She neither sings like an angel nor does she dance like a fairy. She is not eloquent with words or writing. She is neither the prettiest nor the ugliest. She merely is.
She stands and watches from across the dirt road. Does she wish to be on the platform?

Oh, she does indeed. She wishes it with all her might.

Her feet are squarely set in quicksand. Her voice is so muted that it almost seems like she cannot talk. The more she struggles, the more steadfast her feet become in the quicksand.
She calls. No one hears her.
She waves. No one sees her.
She cries. No one wipes away her tear.

She...is invisible.

Suddenly, her head snaps to the direction of the tracks. In the distance, the faint whistle of the approaching train is heard. It causes such joyous rapture on the platform that it seems like the old station might just shudder and fall to the ground.

She looks at her feet, praying that they will slip free.

One after another, men drop to their knees in admiration, ardent words spilling from their lips. Women rejoice as their beloved's take them into their arms. The whistle is much closer now.

She struggles, tears streaming down her agonized face.

On the platform, even the ones that are not meant to be together, and are almost guaranteed not to last, are stirred with the emotions in the air. The profess their undying love, even if they do not mean it, and embrace with temporary happiness.

The train whistle now blasts loudly as it pulls in to the station.

Her eyes slowly look up.

The couples celebrate: hands clasped into their lovers, arms circled around shoulders and waists, and smiles lighting every face.

Her struggles cease as the couples fill the train. The doors quietly close, as if a silent prison cell door slides into its lock.

She is alone.

Yet another train pulls away to a far away destination. 

As the ruckus dies with distance, the old train station stands quietly in the waning light. The birds cease their chirping, retiring to their homes for the night, causing an eerie silence to envelop the station. The shadows become longer as night fills the void that day left as it departed.

She stands alone, again.

Invisible.