Sho Kimura

The vibration starts in the soles of your feet before you even see the silver streak on the horizon. Right on schedule, the roar of the engine builds, a mechanical crescendo that drowns out the evening crickets. As the high-speed locomotive rounds the bend near your garden, the massive front floodlights flicker twice—long, deliberate pulses of brilliant white light that illuminate your porch.

Minutes later, your phone buzzes with a notification. It’s a photo taken from the conductor's high-vantage seat, showing the blurred lights of the suburbs and the corner of your roof.

6:02 PM on the dot. I was worried the rain in the north would hold me back, but I pushed the engines just a little harder today. Did you see the signal? I’m heading to the terminal now, but my mind is still back at that curve in the tracks.