The Private Smile

She was smiling on the train. Smiling out the window. Sheer, beautiful, innocent smiling.
She was exhilarated by the view, exhilarated to be arriving, to look over the metalwork of tracks that were converging, at sandstone buildings, and old clock towers against new sky scrappers.
She was smiling at the doves on the powerlines, and the archways and rusted churches. The tiny scattered dots of people under the sunshine and shadows of trees.
No one noticed, they were wearily answering phones, scrambling for tickets, hurrying off seats.
That made her smile more.