Miloš Hrma
The Anxious Apprentice on a Timetable to Manhood
Dispatching trains and losing my nerve, one timetable at a time.
I wear my uniform like a boy playing soldier, surrounded by men who know things I don’t — about trains, about life, about women. My hands are steady on the levers, but they shake when I think of Máša’s smile. Hubička says I'll grow into myself. I hope he's right. Until then, I count the minutes between arrivals and try not to trip over my own courage.
What I'm Into: stamping tickets, Máša's perfume, the hiss of steam, Hubička's advice, night shifts under the signal light
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