The distant drone of engines set the stage. The station was quiet yet restless. The few waiting for the subway tapped their fingers, their feet, and anything else within reach. There was a feel of tension in the air, as if there were a storm brewing in the air, right out of reach. Quiet murmurs intertwined with the hull of the engines as a soothing lullaby. As if on cue, people poured into the station from each entrance until there was a blur of a crowd teeming with life, waiting for the train. Then came the sound. The sound escalated from a distant hum of might-have-beens to the clear shrill call of adventure. It was the call to live, to love, to risk it all; it was the promise of better days, real life, and freedom. Shuffled footsteps led into compartments, each with its unique set of faces. Familiar, yet somehow nameless; together, yet somehow alone. The subway began to accelerate as the call grew more and more urgent. Fused with the call was the beating of the tracks, creating a clear, beautiful melody. The constant rhythm was reassuring, promising to be there to fall back on. Gently prodding anyone who would listen to follow the call. Then it slowed down to a stop, and footsteps led the nameless faces out onto individual paths and away from the call. And it was just another day.
All Before Ten
July 30, 2012