My first, brief, attempt at metafiction.

I will start with you standing at a station. It isn’t a particularly new one. The benches are wooden and stained. The guard looks as old as his surroundings, and not because of his age, he has a worn kind of boredom about his eyes. It is the kind of boredom that makes me want to ink out a dinosaur beside him. I would like to see what he would do. He was athletic in his youth, his legs might still remember what it was like to run. I could remind them of that. Instead, I will focus on you.

I will tell you that you are waiting for a train, simply because I have no way of drawing your attention to the timetable. 

NEXT TRAIN TO NEVERLAND: PAGE THREE

You have been waiting your entire life for this train, so I assume that you can wait a little longer. Unless, of course, you are in desperate need of that train. Perhaps you can see your teacher walking towards the classroom, why are you reading before class? Some people would call you a geek, or maybe you are at a bus stop or a real train station and your actual mode of transport is scheduled to arrive in one minute. If you can read so much in so little time I will be impressed. You might even catch my train in one sitting. 

So what shall we do whilst we are waiting for the train? My train I mean, the one I am writing about. If it were my choice, which it is, then I would do what I always do when there is something that I have to wait for. You take a book out of your bag and you start to read.

‘I will start with you standing at a station. It...’