The Stranger

The conductor sounds the beep of the closing doors and they begin to hiss shut, but then, we see her. The woman running towards our door, light-brown hair, hand-bag full of papers and wrapped in scarves to keep out the cold winter air. She’s rushing, either for work or for university – we don’t know. Then, you see her and you don’t hesitate. You put your hand in between the doors and somehow keep the doors from closing. Your arm trembles from the exertion and your face grows red, but you win. She slips into our compartment under your arm, and you let go. The doors slam shut. She moves her head slightly, maybe it’s a nod of thanks, and you push your glasses further up your nose. Neither of you say a word to each other.

I watch you both in awe, feeling as if I’m witness the start of something profound in both of your lives, and I can’t help the smile from creeping onto my face. I look around, but nobody seems to care. The smile leaves my face as the deafening screeching of the metro wheels against the track grows louder and louder. The girl leans her body into the carriage door and stares out at the blackness. You stare at your arm, rigidly holding onto the bar. I stare at you both. I note the absence of headphones on either of you; there’s not many of you left. I look down at my shoes in guilt. How have we managed to screw up the world so badly that these two humans, the last of the old era, can’t dare to look at each other? We have failed the human race. The metro pulls in to the next platform. It’s my station. Would it have been different if we were in a different time? Would you have spoken to her if the metro was a horse drawn carriage and the rest of us dissapeared? Or even then, would we stand silently, shoulder to shoulder, unable to speak? I mumble pardon and get off.