Spring 2015
INCOMPREHENSIBLE
by
Kevin Tosca
The lovesick train rushed from east to west, chasing the sun. It was
seven o’clock in the American evening and the European couple sat,
side by side, their armpits wet, their odors strong, their future, like so
many fragile things, a question mark. The train car was empty except for
a young, handsome woman (evidently a native, a commuter) across from
them who was slouched in her seat clipping her nails, checking her
phone, sipping her iced coffee. Eventually, she slept, and it was when
this sole observer’s ability to learn and ignore was extinguished that
Cleopatra spoke to her husband.
“ Coeur, ” she said.
Remi stared out the window, made no sign of having heard, or of not having heard.
Rejecting the belief that two beings can never comprehend one another, Cleopatra raised her voice.
“ Corazón, ” she said.
“Huh?” Remi said, not turning.
“ Cuore.”
The word rang out like a fire alarm, causing him to shift. He wiped his forehead with the back of his
hand. “What?” he asked.
The Linnet's Wings