Wedding

Hannah and I really don't like to leave The Station too often. It just has everything we need - wide open space, hot tea, and a constant flow of interesting folk coming and going. What else is there? I wish we could say we don't leave because the place would fall apart without us, but the truth is, we just don't want to miss the experience when things go wrong. So, we typically stay nearby. But every once in a very blue moon, you know someone across the way who's getting married and you're invited. And if it's one of your favorite people in the world, such as was the case for us, you accept this invitation and go.
It was our dearest cousin Samantha and her union to a Mr. Spencer Adams. So, without a moments hesitation, we walked out our front door and headed toward wedding bells, leaving The Station unlocked and a Swedish pianist named Skügen in charge.
The ceremony was a glorious occasion, with song and tears galore. The groomsmen wore cardigans, as did I, and Hannah tried her best to sneak me into the processional as one of the party. I would have done so gladly with her on my arm, but the bridesmaids wore peach while Hannah donned a more traditional royal blue. Thusly, we resigned to comply as simple audience members, giving our blessing from the pews. Our attempts did not go unnoticed, however, and we were invited to dine at the King's Table during the reception. We traded veggies when no one was looking, and insisted the water was cherry flavored until everyone had to either play along or be accused of judging an Asian and a cripple. Then came the dancing! For once, Hannah danced to Taylor Swift (her arch rival for my affections), and we even provided a song ourselves - the tax of the bride and groom to see them kiss. It's true, we sang an acapella rendition of Moulin Rouge's "Elephant Love Medley" and scarred many of the elderly for the rest of their lives.
What a wonderful evening of celebrating one of our favorite people (and now we add Spencer to that short list)! Little did we know, the reception hall was magical - we should've guessed, being Sam's wedding and all. It is impossible to explain, as all magic is and especially when it has to do with time, but when we finally returned to The Station, we realized all the world was just slightly different. An hour different, to be exact, and our three hour gap - the bane of our existence - was now only two hours wide.
"Well," sighed Hannah as we sat down for tea, "this is nice."
"Yes," I agreed. "And to think, just two more weddings to go and that pesky gap will be history."
"Or nothing at all," suggested Hannah with a smirk.
I wanted to say how nice that would be but she'd already said something was nice, so I had to find a different response.
"Only time will tell."

Pancakes

It was every so often that late in the night Kevan and I would find ourselves still awake. Sometimes you simply cannot sleep, especially if that is what you wish for most in the world. The Station tends to be a little bit of a restless animal some might say. I felt my stomach grumble its bubbly moan and decided to creep out quietly to the kitchen to find something to munch on. I have a horrible weakness for midnight picnics. My bare feet shuffled across the cold cement floor as I made my way over to the fridge and peered inside.
"Care for a walk?" I heard beside me. I cautiously peeked one eye over the refrigerator door and then the other to fully view Kevan already wrapped up tightly in his dark wool overcoat. I shrugged and crammed the remainder of my leftover pancake in my mouth.
"How was that pancake?" Kevan smirked as we slid into the cool night air.
"Alright. There was a bit too much cake, not enough pan." I replied nonchalantly. Kevan chuckled softly in reply. The stars hung in the dark sky as tiny bits of mirror speckled across a dark secret corner. We breathed in the frosty air and walked slowly along, each lost in a world of different thoughts.
"Do you ever worry that you'll meet someone in a book and the more you read, the more you prefer their company to the real world? I know stories tend to end so suddenly, but you can keep them alive just by writing them new ones can't you? I get worried sometimes. That that will happen to me." I burst out suddenly. Kevan paused for a moment and looked out at the sea. He squinted his eyes and wiggled his nose to push his glasses back up on his face, as he so often does.
"Hannah, I wonder that almost as often as you do. I am more easily enticed by a character who is already fabricated to be charming and likeable for all their quirks and differences. I feel that if I look too hard I can fall right in. That is how the greats all did it. I'm convinced. They just fell right in. The characters simply become people and we play narrator to however they choose to live their lives."
"Do you think we're interesting enough to be someone's characters? I did just put an entire pancake in my mouth." I giggled.
"How could we not be? Two people who own an abandoned train station for the sole purpose of cultivating creative freedoms? I'd say we're at least worth a newspaper article or something." Kevan replied while flinging his arms in the air.
"A blog maybe?" I suggested.
"I'd settle for a blog." He replied. Suddenly we'd arrived back at our doorstep again. So we said goodnight and I headed off to bed. My eyelids grew heavy and as I smiled to myself, well I suppose I just decided that it was alright to lean in a little bit. How else could we go on all those impossible adventures?

Snow on the Beach

"Snow cones," I asked. "What's your take on them?"

Hannah did that thing with her eyebrow that silently tells me I'm crazy. She gives me that look at least twice a day. But she also follows it up by entertaining my weird questions.

"Sure," she replied, "I'm alright with them, though I'm more of a long-walks-on-the-beach kinda girl."

"Yeah," I sighed, "I guess they're not really the type to do that, are they?"

"No, I suppose not," Hannah said sadly.

"Because they'd melt," I added, "and then someone would be bound to drown."

"Yeah."

A pause. I took a moment to think through this.

"What about the Abominable Snowman?" I asked at last. 

I was onto something. I knew it because Hannah raised her other eyebrow, which silently tells me I'm onto something. But just as she gave that affirming look, there came a knock on the door. That's the lovely thing (one of many, anyway) about The Station. You never have to go looking for Adventure - it always comes to your door. Sure, from there, you might go out for pizza with it, maybe a long walk on the beach or a game of chess in the park, light an abandoned building on fire or save a group of orphans from a sinking ship. But it always begins (at The Station, anyway) with a knock on the door.

I'm sorry to say this is not a continuation of our series on Madness. That will come further on down the road, as Hannah implied. You see, my dear cousin has this ability to see into the future, and she sometimes mixes it up with the present. So she says things in passing, like "Years passed until one day..." and we are all left hanging in the balance until either we reach that point in time naturally or she accidentally slips into that vision again and gives us more to go with. So, all that to say, the story of Madness will continue someday, and I wish I could confidently say when, but the truth is we are all at the mercy of Hannah's little quirk.