A Feeling of Intense Discomfort
And he did stay there.
He stayed on the seat with nothing to look at but a portrait of a Wilbur that was stuck at the age of eighteen. Back when his forehead didn’t have a single crease.
But after what felt like an hour – which could in fact have been a second or a day – it began to happen.
Wilbur looked down and saw his clothes and tanned youthful limbs begin to flicker. He could see the green velvet seat where his denim-clad legs should have been. Blinking on and off. He was like a lightbulb that had been left on too long. But that wasn’t the issue. The issue was the feeling.
An intense claustrophobia.
A stuckness.
When he tried to stand up he felt like he was in a straitjacket he couldn’t get out of. His mind writhed and wriggled but he stayed steadfast within his seat, within his now itching, restless, burning body. He was – undeniably, indisputably, improbably – stuck.
Agnes walked down the aisle and shook her head. ‘Oh dear, Old Bean. You are in quite the pickle there, aren’t you?’
‘What’s … going on?’
‘In The Long Goodbye, Raymond Chandler writes about how the deadliest traps are laid by no one but ourselves. His masterpiece, in my opinion. Even Miss Graham would agree with that … Now, I am the truth of the universe, yet I also contain the essence of Mrs Agnes Deborah Amaryllis Bagdale. I do sincerely care. And you are quite a frustrating creature to care for, I have to say.’
‘Please, Mrs Bag— Agnes … try and help me.’
She sighed disapprovingly. ‘The only way you can escape this feeling, the only way you can break this curse, is to stand up and face what happened.’
‘I can’t face this.’
‘That is right. You never could, Old Bean. But now you have to. You must leave the train or you will feel like this for ever.’
‘Please. Just stop this feeling.’
‘Only you can do that.’
‘How do I stand up and leave the train?’
Agnes sighed. ‘By knowing it is way past time.’