Work Text:
I was walking to the train station on my way home from running an errand. The sky outside was overcast with gray clouds and a light rain was falling from the sky. The air around me was damp and smelled fresh with the promise of more rain later. A small breeze blew past ruffling the brown curls in my short brown hair and causing raindrops to land on my face instead of just on top of my head and shoulders.
I’m wearing a black beanie on top of my head which now was covered in the small droplets that hadn’t yet soaked in. I shiver as the wind picks up further before disappearing and leaving the rain to its rhythmic tune. Pitter patter pitter patter it says almost as if it’s trying to say something. I pause a moment to look in a puddle forming on the sidewalk. I gaze at myself in it, when did I become so dull?
The brown color of my eyes seems to have faded from what was once a dark chocolate brown full of life and ambition; I notice dark bags forming under my eyes from my lack of sleep and self-care. How long have I been in this wretched city?
When I first moved here I was excited and full of life, now I just seemed like another empty face, another person just like the rest; devoid of hope to ever leave this place. I continue walking and soon my sweater, the color of the pavement which the puddle had formed; is damp from the rain.
I come upon the tunnel that leads underground to the train station. I walk down the cold concrete stairs, a chill seeping through my clothing and into my skin as I head further down. I reach the bottom and check my watch; five minutes until my train arrives.
When five minutes have passed and my train still hasn't arrived I stand up and walk over to a crowd of people to see what the commotion is about.
A lady who looks to be around the age of thirty is standing at the front of the crowd speaking; she is wearing the uniform of one of the railway workers making it clear that she is an employee who works here. Her blue, white, and red uniform was thrown over a black turtle neck to keep out the cold.
“The 5:40 pm train has been delayed due to some…unfortunate events but will be arriving at 6:30 pm, we apologize for the inconvenience” I hear a few people groan at what the station worker says and a few people roll their eyes at the inconvenience.
Having done this time and time again I already know what the unfortunate event is; and so does everyone else in the station. How could people be so cold-hearted? Yes, your train is delayed but the reasoning makes me sick to my stomach; someone had tried to take their life on the tracks and had succeeded.
It’s the only reason trains are ever late nowadays, what should be treated with remorse and grief is treated by these people as a minor inconvenience to ruin their day. What is wrong with the people in this city?
They are the reason these types of things happen. I walk over to an empty bench and sit down to wait for my train; the cold damp concrete wall behind me chills the back of the brown jacket I’m wearing.
I ponder about how this city has brought me nothing but grief; I lost someone I loved because of how this city has changed me for the worse. And yet unlike everyone else, I seem to still have a sense of empathy.
I begin to cough a bit from the air which is dense with the pollution caused by the population of the city. This city has given me asthma I swear; ever since moving to the city my mental health has decreased noticeably, it’s almost as if I constantly have a dark cloud hanging over my head.
My body feels weak and my mind now numb, barely holding on to conscious thought; not consistent with the constant feeling of despair and regret. I let my thoughts wander; maybe the water has given me cancer I think to myself, and the pavement has certainly hurt my feelings. It feels as though I could shout at the walls for hours and never be heard by anyone, the walls don't love you and neither does anyone else in this city, my thoughts say, a reminder of the pain I’ve felt in these last few months. This city is wasting my time, staying here would almost be a fate worse than dying.
“Northern and Waterloo and City Lines, and National Rail Services. This train terminates at Stanmore” a voice says over an intercom. Just as the voice finishes a train arrives. I look down at the time on my phone; 6:30 pm, the time the new train was supposed to arrive.
After around five minutes of boarding the train and finding a seat, I hear the engine begin to startup again. Most people who were supposed to take the 5:40 pm train already went home finding a different form of transportation making the train seem almost empty.
I lean my head against the window, the cool glass against my forehead all too familiar. As the train begins to move along the wooden and metal tracks I vaguely hear a voice say over the intercom,
“The Jubilee Line will now be departing” and my thoughts once again begin to wander.
There's a reason London puts barriers on the tube line and rails. There's a reason they fail.