Despite the emptiness of the train station, I can hear the sounds of people - headed to work, headed home from school or work; day shifts, night shifts, social visits, and business ventures.
All of the stories, the emotions they hide and carry, unknown to one another. The clues given by their postures or countenances; caught in glances and forgotten just as quickly.
The station is haunted, filled with ghosts, of memories lost and faded from time. Sentiments once deemed of utmost importance, now lie irrelevant.
I could almost feel the murmur of conversation,
the flipping of pages from books, magazines, or newspapers;
the thundering sounds of railways,
the laughter of children.
I can hear the pitter-patter of expensive Italian shoes
the shuffle of worn work boots
the clacking of heels
the scuff of flats
all running together.
After the world came crashing down around me, it was only then that I realized something as benign as the sounds of a train station to be comforting.
It was a reminder of the world that went on despite it feeling like it was at an eternal standstill.
Of course, back then I was completely unaware
of how I was building up a collection of memories centered around that very moment.
I didn't realize how I would forever hear those sounds and be brought back to a simpler time. I never knew how important it would become, or the memories that come along with it.
