All of it seemed like a blur. He reached in his pocket for the fare. There was nothing there. Strange. He reached into the soft lining of his suit and found an envelope. He opened the envelope and put the gold coin in the silver coin slot. A ticket to ride dropped into the glass-covered slit below.
Behind the dark-tempered glass, the attendant sat. He could feel the eyes of the station attendant on him and could sense a toothy, white grin from behind the tempered pane. He put his ticket through the collect, the black gates opened and he descended further down the long grey escalator to the train.
There was no one else on the platform below. He sat alone on the empty faux-marble bench in silence until the train came peering down the dark tunnel like a pair of eyes on a tired traveler. The train pulled up slowly and the doors opened.
He took his seat on the faux-leather bench, making sure he was facing forward. He disliked sitting backwards even if only for short trips. He always enjoyed the silence of the metro; that uncanny silence of a group strangers sitting together in a total absence of noise, save the hum of the train.
A homeless man and his ragged stuff was sitting in the special section reserved for the elderly and pregnant- his sleeping gait lumbering with the subtle train bumps. Lights sped by in the dark tunnel in a uniform whiteness.
He peered over at the sleeping homeless man. He was drooling absently. Wait, was that blood?
Come to think of it, he said to himself as he scanned the rest of the train, no one on this train looks very good. The guy in the seat across from me has a massive head wound. It looks like someone to a cheese grater to his cabeza. Probably wasn't wearing a helmet on his moto. Jeez, that old lady in the seat in front looks to be 120 years old.
His eyes widened as he scanned the rest of the train and tried to remember where exactly he was going.
Good, we are pulling into a stop. Maybe this will help me get my bearings. Charon Station? Where am I?
Just then an ominous voice chimed in on the intercom. This is the end of the line, this train will be going out of service.
Behind the dark-tempered glass, the attendant sat. He could feel the eyes of the station attendant on him and could sense a toothy, white grin from behind the tempered pane. He put his ticket through the collect, the black gates opened and he descended further down the long grey escalator to the train.
There was no one else on the platform below. He sat alone on the empty faux-marble bench in silence until the train came peering down the dark tunnel like a pair of eyes on a tired traveler. The train pulled up slowly and the doors opened.
He took his seat on the faux-leather bench, making sure he was facing forward. He disliked sitting backwards even if only for short trips. He always enjoyed the silence of the metro; that uncanny silence of a group strangers sitting together in a total absence of noise, save the hum of the train.
A homeless man and his ragged stuff was sitting in the special section reserved for the elderly and pregnant- his sleeping gait lumbering with the subtle train bumps. Lights sped by in the dark tunnel in a uniform whiteness.
He peered over at the sleeping homeless man. He was drooling absently. Wait, was that blood?
Come to think of it, he said to himself as he scanned the rest of the train, no one on this train looks very good. The guy in the seat across from me has a massive head wound. It looks like someone to a cheese grater to his cabeza. Probably wasn't wearing a helmet on his moto. Jeez, that old lady in the seat in front looks to be 120 years old.
His eyes widened as he scanned the rest of the train and tried to remember where exactly he was going.
Good, we are pulling into a stop. Maybe this will help me get my bearings. Charon Station? Where am I?
Just then an ominous voice chimed in on the intercom. This is the end of the line, this train will be going out of service.
