I am afraid, so afraid that the outside world will cease to exist and all that will remain is this train carriage with tired empty-eyed people. The dull glint of parallel train tracks is just make us all think that we are going somewhere, not trapped in here with fluorescent lights, the rattle and creak and lurch of this carriage, rolling on into the darkness eternally. All I have is the smooth white plastic wall, and I press my hand to it. In an hour, I will run my fingers along the metal rail, greasy from the oil and sweat of countless hands. After that, I will examine the material of the floor, with its infinitesimal tiny silver sparkles. The navy-blue PVC seats, and the scratched glass reflecting me and my hat. I will assiduously avoid the people because they don’t look like they will tell me their stories, and this is a very sad thing. But I wouldn’t tell them mine either, so isn’t that fair? We’re speeding off through the dark and into the dark and off the edge of the world, but I didn’t get to say goodbye. Don’t close your eyes, and I won’t close mine. We’ll stave this off with ordinariness.