Gold Dust || JJK

57 - Pied Piper

Faye

Crowded places had always kidnapped bits of the courage I manifested before leaving the house. I just don't like them. Many years ago, they made me feel safe, knowing that if something were to happen to me, there must be a passerby with a humanitarian urge to help me.

Not anymore.

Right now, they give me anxiety. I am not exactly sure when this feeling changed. Could have been in France, for all I know. The moment is not important. The places are.

Crowded shopping centers won't allow me to take my time and decide which dress fits me better, the seize choice a complete Russian roulette. Cramped markets will subtly hurry me to pick up random groceries, resulting in an unsatisfying dinner like I had last night: pasta with chunks of potatoes. Who even eats that?

I mean, I did, and as surprising as it may come, no, it wasn't tasty.

Luckily, now we can both order clothes or food online, so I might use the limitless apps for my outfits and meals. But traveling? Well, that's an issue. Huddled streets, jam-packed with cars, overpopulating the cities, more vehicles than people. It's a good thing I don't drive.

"Do you know what I love about trains?" I ask with sweaty palms, but I don't meet with his response, so I continue, "When going to a train station, something shifts inside you. You don't care about the people around you."

And it's true.

As soon as you step on the platform, you don't have a mission any longer, except for waiting. It's not really your responsibility to get from point A to point B, and that's how a significant amount of stress is reduced.

People are worry-free and hide themselves inside of their minds, earbuds on, eyes on the phone screens, ignoring their surroundings. They tell their stories but only if you want to look close enough to see them.

Each day I go to work, I take the exact same train, at the exact same exact hour, on the exact same platform. With me, there is a large group of people doing the exact same thing. It's like we formed a small community.

What are their jobs? Not relevant. They won't say and you won't know. But things don't change with them. There is continuity. Stability.

From Monday to Friday morning, I meet with a short Japanese man, in his 40s – I assume, dressed up in a black suit, impeccably ironed and styled. Always black. I have never seen him wearing a different color. What I noticed, however, is that on Fridays, his tie is not grey or navy, but pale beige. It gets me wondering what special occasion at the end of the week makes him cross the line. Could be that he's going for a drink after work with his colleagues and the tie is an active reminder for the weekend to come.

On Tuesdays and Thursdays, a young guy with tones of piercings on his face barely catches the train. You'd see him running on the stairs seconds before the doors closed. That one is always late but makes it just in time. Dyed light blue hair, green and azure lenses depending on his mood. Four piercings on his left ear. Other five in his right one. Nose, eyebrow, and lip rings too. High chance he has a tongue stud as well. Punk-style clothing and JBL headphones. The large guitar hanging on his back could the the reason he's on the verge of losing the train. It looks heavy and his walking is labored.