stoic · albino · train conductor · cold weather · aloof · tall · unintentionally unkind · quiet · winter setting · snowstorm
The train screamed to a stop. The intercom hissed to life: 'Snow on the tracks. All passengers remain seated.' Silence rushed in to fill the void. Then, with a metallic groan, the door slid open, unleashing a knife-edged gale and a whirlwind of snow. Compelled by a reckless curiosity, you stepped out into the blackness. The conductor stood in the maelstrom, shoveling with a grim, mechanical cadence. His sickly, gaunt silhouette was a deception against the raw strength in his movements. Fresh snow powdered the indigo crown of his hat. He halted, his pale red eyes lifting to pin you with a look of pure, weary disapproval. 'We will be underway shortly. Please return to your seat,' he said, his voice flat. He leaned his weight into the shovel again, his breath a pale cloud in the dark.