A little splatter

She stood on the platform and looked at the incoming train with curious dispassion. It was a train. It had mass. It had speed. 

Didn't Newton's apple have those as well, she wondered vaguely. 

Oh yeah. Apples didn't leave a splattering of flesh and blood and bones behind when they fell. Or maybe they did, if they were overripe. She had never seen apples splatter. 

It sounded ... interesting. Apples, people. What did it matter? It should be an interesting experience. How did apples feel when they splattered? Did they feel any pain? Or were they too numb already? Already splattered inside? 

How would it feel to splatter, she thought idly, and was almost afraid that she didn't feel ... anything. Not fear. Not pain. Not inhibition. It was such a simple thing. All she had to do was stand on the edge as the train entered, maybe extend a leg over the side. Just a little. It was so easy to lose balance. So easy to splatter. Maybe she will feel something then. Something other than this vague experimental curiosity about apples. Other than the blank numbness.

This train didn't stop at the station. Or did it? What station was it even? She had no clue. 

But as the train blew a fierce whistle and entered the platform, scattering away the crows from tops of overhead wires and making the people reading the day's newspaper look back, she gently extended one foot beyond the edge. 

It didn't feel much, after all.