The train is late tonight.
When it arrives,
I have my hands stuffed
inside my jacket pockets,
with a hot coffee I’ve purchased
from the godsend vendo machine.
How many UCC coffees
have I chugged down this workweek?
I run on this stuff, I suppose.
The sharp exhale
and the high screech of the wheels on the tracks
bring me back.
When the doors open, I step inside
with the only other passenger at this hour.
I take my seat.
What a mercy.
The other passenger stays standing.
He leans back against the doors when they close —
I think to myself,
is not very wise.
dozing in and out.
The low hum of everything,
a familiar lullaby.
My stop is the last one on this line.
The doors have opened
several times by now,
and my co-passenger has moved.
He’s chosen a better spot,
hanging onto one of the handles.
He’s texting someone.
I doze in and out.
Until my stop finally greets me —
a digital female voice,
the same sharp exhale of the train
as it screeches to a halt on the tracks.
The other passenger alights before me.
He glances back,
pulls his jacket tighter around himself,
and mumbles about
how the train is still full.
Written by @micahfinds
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