a/n: Another 2010 story, this one written for fma_fic_contest back in the day. If I recall correctly, the prompt was "first-person POV."

People say it's dangerous to stand too close to a passing train. If you're too near when one of them whizzes on by, the force of its passing will pull you into its wake, right down onto the rickety, old tracks, and who knows what'll happen then. You'll get hurt, maybe even die if you fall the wrong way. If you're unlucky enough to fall.

At least, that's what they told us when we were young, to warn us away from playing around the tracks that cut through the center of my hometown. But they're wrong, of course. Oh, not about the danger bit - there's always going to be danger involved whenever high-speed objects are present, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise – but they were wrong about the principles. Two years worth of university; I think I've learned a few things.

Like how it's not really the train that pulls you in, it's the surrounding air that pushes you towards the tracks. High velocity, low pressure, fluids flowing from high pressure to low pressure regions. Movement begets movement. But even so, when you think about it, there's really not even enough force to pull you in. The train's not moving fast enough, firstly, and secondly, there are simply too many factors to take into account. The train's velocity is only one part of the equation. Chances are you won't fall if you're not standing nose-to-nose with it as it passes, and everyone knows only a madman would stand that close.

No, that's not the danger, not really. The danger isn't the risk of falling into the tracks. It's the sensation of movement, the feeling of direction in the wind. Because even though you won't fall, you'll still get a little tug, a bit of a jolt, as it clatters by. It's going somewhere, and it reminds you that – well, that you're not going anywhere. Here's life passing right before your eyes, journeying towards that grand ol' destination shining in the distance, and meanwhile, you're just squatting here waiting for something to come to you.

It makes people want to move, and that's the most dangerous part of it all. That's certainly how I got myself into this situation, by paying too much attention to direction. That's what all the professors told me, anyways, back at the university. Get your head out of the clouds, you've got to get the theory down first! Always something of this sort, and truth be told, they're probably right. Still, it rankles, after hearing this for nearly two years and getting nothing to show for it. If I'm never going to use this theory, then what's the point?

And I guess that's why I'm here, after all, in the station, waiting for the next train to take me away from here. It's probably not a smart decision, leaving in the middle of term to hare off after some rocketry demonstration in some backwater town, but maybe enrolling in university was a mistake in the first place. Maybe I was never cut out for the theory. I want to get my hands on something, something solid and real, and if the university's not giving it to me, then I guess it's time to pack up my briefcase and leave.

Cut your losses, get out early. I'm no devilish wanderer, but at least I'll be going somewhere, and who knows – maybe I'll end up right where I need to be. And if not – if not, at least the scenery along the way will be more beautiful.