And there she was. I knew it was her. It had been thirteen years since I was in her classroom but I was certain that was Mrs Brown. Yet, I still hesitated. She looked different, of course, but more than just weathering, the ceaseless beating of years marching on. Mrs Brown didn’t look well. Her face was frail looking; the left side was sagging lower than the right and a walking-frame rested on the train seat beside her. Had she suffered a stroke? I wanted to know what ailed her so I could fix it. A strong wave of sadness washed over me and I wasn’t entirely sure why. She was a talisman of sorts. One that brought memories of childhood and simpler times, and now my talisman was sick.

I want to be 6 years old again, I want my bunk beds back, I want my big sister to still live in the room across the hallway, I want my dog Gus back, I want mum to wake me, up and kiss me goodnight again, I want my bedtime back, I want to read my favourite book for the first time.
I want, I want, I want.

I felt my friends hand on the small of my back, “this is our stop.”

I didn’t want to get off the train; I wanted to keep going forever, till the end of the line, I wasn’t ready to leave.

“Yeah.” I said.

I shuffled towards the doors, trying to catch Mrs Brown eye, doors hissed open and we stepped out, walking away, letting the train march on with out us.

Good-bye for now talisman.

TRANSLATION TO FILM:
I would stay quite truthful to this observation, using voiceover to externalise the antagonist’s inner monolog and nostalgia while on the train.
I imagine a slow zoom beginning with a long shot at the back of a semi busy train carriage, that gets closer and closer to the antagonist until it settles on a extreme close up on her face. All a while the voice over is playing. However, Instead of ending with the antagonist getting off the train, a harsh cut to black once the voice over stops is the ending.