It was on the train ride home, We both were the only commuters. You were sitting there quietly, eyes fixed away, I was standing there quietly, legs astride, leaning on the cold metal pole. Not a sound in the empty aisle, not a sound between us two. The world outside played like a slow movie, glimpses of life being lived differently, almost cinematic, but far too real for us to cope with. We were only human, made of the same things, but not made for the same things. You were intertwined with the longing, for a home you left years ago, and I was only accepting, that this ride would leave me in no destination. The space beyond us entirely molded itself, and gradually reeled into oblivion. It felt like we were swaying in a burning room, everything outside was cascading in an apocalypse of some kind. But we were unaware in each other’s company, we were disregarding the endings that was etched on our fate. We reached your terminal, and the moments between losing you, and having lost you, a part of me never found itself. In the distance between the platform, and the train, we embraced those fears, we just readily accepted it.
You were gone,
in a matter of a few seconds,
you were gone.
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