train

Steam rose from the rain-soaked concrete at the Emeryville Amtrak Station, where I was boarding a morning train to HI Sacramento hostel. Inside the train car I overheard a young woman with an indeterminable European accent ask another passenger which was the side with the best views. “This side,” he said, meaning the left side facing the tracks and a couple of tall hotel buildings, so that’s how I chose my own seat.