The Old Boxcar:

           Leaves tumbled through the abandoned train station, following the chilly autumn wind. An old man walked the other direction along rusted train tracks, towards the wind as he made his way to an old forgotten boxcar. The old conductor’s hat sat on grey hair, the wind trying to blow the dirty hat off, a sign of long since retirement. The man didn’t care though, his mind focused on the old boxcar. Shaky, calloused hands slowly opened the door to the car, reviling aged memories of long since forgotten adventures. A ghost of smile flitted across the man’s face as he gazed at the boxes and crates holding his stuff.  Carefully, he climbed up into the car and made his way over to a dusty box off to the side. Wrinkled hands opened the box and aged eyes gazed into the contents. Pictures, color faded and edges wrinkled sat in the box. Faces smiling up at the old man making him smile back. The photos showed a happy time, when people would gather in the old ghost town. Family and friends, neighbors and work buddies all in one place. The smile fell off the man’s face and he closed the box again before slowly making his way out of the boxcar. The door was slid shut again, and the man turned away from the old memories.  Gradually he walked away until he faded into the distance, taking his memories with him.