8.48…no, 9.03 eastbound

I anxiously look at my watch. As if my train will magically appear if I stare at my watch hard enough. I hate, hate, hate wasting time doing nothing. Don’t get all smart-alecky on me and tell me all the time I sit surfing the web and watching silly cat videos is wasting my time doing nothing. This here is really doing nothing.

Someone has carved a heart shape into the wooden seat and the initials A and J on either side of the heart. A loves J. Or loved J. Or J wished A loved J. Funny how the heart is burdened with love. It’s not enough to tirelessly pump blood into the veins. Shouldn’t the brain be blamed for thoughts of love? Or in the case of the teenage boy who I suspected of this particular vandalism, his penis? So here I am on the platform, waiting for my 8.48, along with someone’s love, which is also presumably waiting to catch the 8.48 to get the hell out of there.

Do you believe everything happens for a reason? No, I don’t mean like there is an explanation for everything, as in the 8.48 train got delayed because of a technical fault in the engine. I mean like things happen because they were meant to happen. Fate. Destiny. As in the train got delayed so I would take the 9.03 instead and our paths would intersect. When I see the entire car full except for the seat next to you, patiently waiting for me to take it, it makes me wonder. Can I be honest? I do not believe everything happens for a reason. And I guess you don’t either for you get off at the next stop. I don’t think you even noticed me next to you.But at least now I can exhale and focus on the blur of tracks, channeling my hate of wasted time.

Fate? Screw Fate. I think I’ll drive to work tomorrow.

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About fictionfuture

An experiment in minimalist fiction View all posts by fictionfuture

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