I met Ed on a train.
I jumped it outside San Isidro and there he was, bundled in the corner of one of the freight cars.
Drink? he asked, like it was nothing, and offered up a bottle wrapped in brown paper.
After that we rode the tracks together for a while – Pecos, Sonora, Crystal City – until I left him in Abilene with a big-eyed girl he swore he loved. I never saw him again after that.
Some say he’s in jail, others that he got religion. Some say he died.
They’re wrong. He’ll always be on a train going somewhere.
This is a 100-word flash fiction story, prompted by the picture you can see up there, as part of Friday Fictioneers.