Rachel Watson My husband used to tell me I have an overactive imagination. I can't help it. I mean, haven't you ever been on a train and wondered about the lives of the people who live near the tracks? The lives you've never lived. These are things I want to know. Twice a day, I sit in the third car from the front where I have the perfect view into my favorite house: Number 15, Beckette Road. [sees a woman on her back porch in the morning] I don't know when exactly, I suppose I started noticing her about a year ago, and gradually as the months went past, she became important to me. I'm not the girl I used to be. I think people can see it on my face. [sees the same woman at night with her husband] She's what I lost. She's everything I want to be. [now sitting in the train station, drawing] I imagine she's a painter. She's creative. He's a doctor or an architect. He has a good laugh. She can't cook. I wonder what they say to each other before they go to sleep. Today her name is Jess. Tomorrow it could be Lisa or Amber - it all depends on the day. It depends on my mood. The truth is, I don't know her name.
