I see an army of men and women in suits, power walking towards the direction of an office park.
I see an unfamiliar single man walking sombrely with a store bought lunch towards the same direction.
I see a smoker, his hand reaching a pocket with a rectangular bulge, he stops outside and lights a cigarette. A beautiful woman rushes to his side with a single unlit cigarette at hand and smiles. The fruit of this wordless exchange was her having her own cigarette lit by this man who decided to double his chivalry points by opening the door of her Uber when it came. He threw his cigarette butt a mere second before his own Uber came.
I look in front of me, my eyes landing on a shiny surface and see myself seated on a cold bench. Though cold, this place is warmer than the flat that keeps me grateful for shelter but hurts me every night by reminding me it’s no longer my home.
I look away and spot a less pathetic person seated on another cold bench, her smile met another warm smile from afar. She stood and invited a hug from a motherly figure. As if her smile hadn’t been something I envied already, it grew when a small boy appeared behind the mother carrying a single cup of coffee as if he was magic. I didn’t see them leave.
I see a tired old lady get a sudden jolt of energy when her eyes met the ones of her cheerful grandchildren running in pyjamas.
I see a teenager in school uniform looking around in frustration, he pants around and fiddles with his phone and joins me on my cold bench. A train arrives and he shoots up when he sees a gang dressed just like him. I realised he didn’t greet nor did he say bye, but that doesn’t bother me.
I see a girl jump her lover and greet him with a passionate kiss, my heart aches and it feels colder and I look away.
I see an army of uniformed men and women probably worn out because of the night shift. A short lady smiled at me, I think I smiled back. My eyes followed her until she got into a bus with her colleagues.
All the people I saw left after a while; and new people came.
Our destination is never the train station. It is a mere pit stop where we can stretch our legs, catch a breath and take everything we need before we head to the actual destination. The journey never stops here.
But then again, maybe it does.
When I stood my eyes were drawn to a familiar sight. A young couple stood facing one another, not touching and not embracing. One would expect that considering the man had four bulging bags on his side and she had none on hers. The distance between them couldn’t have been greater than the length of your average ruler, but they had faces that said they were already miles apart. The intercom announced that a train was approaching and they moved with an almost perfect sync. She moved a step towards him, his step was away. Long after he had gone into his train she still stood right there a step away from her initial position and an increasing number of steps away from the man who went away in a train without her. I still stood too looking at her; I only walked when she began to cry. I simply couldn’t bear the sight of her shaking with sobs that seemed to start some engine in her body that controlled her waterfall tears.
I want to walk to her and pull her back to her initial position, before she reached for a man who saw her as a pit stop and not the destination.
I walk out crying just like I did then, back to that flat that hasn’t felt like home ever since you left. I finish packing my own bags and drive away. I’ve realised that my journey needs to begin again. I need to find something that will dethrone you, something that will make this pain feel like a necessary pit stop too.
