Wiry pick-swinging labourers trudge along a track bed of crushed granite.
Faces peer out, bodies drop to the track.
The water has run out in the toilets and no, there's no dining car. I had been determined to take the old mail train from Singapore up through the jungles of central Malaysia to the East Coast, fabled land of fishing villages under the swaying palms. This story runs to 1150 words, but can be expanded upon to include extra material.