The train has compartments. The seats are old and have a musty smell. The heating, turned on full and not to be changed, makes the air cloying and presses the cause of sleep and release. The misted windows offer us only vague reflections. The darkness outside says "stay in your warm bright cave and wait for me to be gone".
Our minds are numbed by the cradling rattle and rumble of the train. Our eyes open and close with no change in what we perceive. Your head rests on my plaid covered chest as you curl up against me like child hugging her oversized teddy bear in the glow of the night light. My arm around your shoulders has long ceased to have feeling but I am loath to move it and break the spell.
But you are not a child and your hand and my penis have plans for each other. We know the moment is fading but we move on from it drowsily, almost replete, seeking one more comfort against the winter cold.