Derailed

As the train rushed out of the station with a noisy clack and electric sizzle, he stood on the platform breathing heavily.

He rubbed his temples and closed his eyes, feeling the rush of air as the cars shuddered past. The dirty air swirled around him, stifling him, but all he could think of was the rag-top that took him to work years before. The years before this city. Before this godforsaken train.

The platform didn't stay empty long. Older women pulling carts full of vegetables sat at the benches. Spry younger men in their crisp business suits and women in dresses and yoga pants lined up by the yellow line. The digital placard read: HYDE SQUARE 2 MIN. He tried to remember the last time a train arrived on time.

----

She was listening to Top 40. For all the crazy tempos and false sentimental lyrics, it somehow relaxed her after a long day. None of it was necessarily her style, but she couldn't quite remember what her style was anymore. The jeans and airy shirt she wore were her style - at least from a year or two ago.

Like she did twice a day, she found the witty airline or clothier ad on the opposite side of the tracks and stood in front of it, blankly staring. It was her spot.

----

He walked down the platform as people flooded in from above. He hated people. Loud, overbearing, and in a place like this they had no respect for personal space. He passed a harpist seated on a bench. She was playing the Mario Bros. theme song.

As the crowd thinned, he found a nice enough pillar to lean up against and stopped in front of some fancy video board playing a Macy's ad. Next to it was an airline ad. Or a clothier. He couldn't quite tell.

He leaned back to check the time to the next train. Two minutes. Still. As he leaned back into the pillar he awkwardly caught a woman's eye. He snapped his gaze to his toes and pulled out his phone, acting preoccupied.

She was beautiful. Or at least he thought she was. It had only been a second, so he couldn't be sure, but he didn't dare take another look yet.

Fitted jeans. Loose top. Dark ringlets of hair framed her face. She was thin - he would say lithe. She looked tired. The second of eye contact said she was weary. He could relate.

----

She swiped through some social media feed looking at all her friends having babies or getting engaged. It felt like a new person everyday.

Something moved to her left and she looked up just in time to make eye contact with the guy to her left. She looked down quickly, greeted by the face of her high school best friend. A giant ring sat on her finger and a beaming smile on her face.

He wasn't bad. Attractive enough. Thin. Narrow faced. His plaid shirt hugged his body and the rolled up sleeves revealed a series of tattoos. She thought he looked like a bike messenger. She didn't forget him like she normally would - there was something that seemed to stick in her mind. The bags under his eyes. The attractive shell wrapped around a tired, tired soul.

She checked the train time just as the automated message told the whole station that the next train to Hyde Square was approaching.

----

The crowd began to spread out, dispersing along the whole length of the train platform. Carts full of fruit, some kid with a bike, and a lady in a motorized scooter moved past him to another spot further down.

The train zipped into the station with the squeal of brakes and a sound he could never place. It felt like someone slamming thousands of doors as fast as they could. It slowed to a stop and exhaled a sigh of relief.