The Boy on the Train

I met this boy who always seemed to sit next to me on the train… 


As a commuter, I have mastered the art in train taking.

When you get on the train, try choosing seats from the back or the front of the train, since these are usually the quite cars and these cars are usually the emptiest. In terms of choosing a seat, the only thing that matters is that you sit in the ally seat and avoid eye contact. That might make you look like a douche, but it would probably guarantee you two empty seats for you to occupy.

That being said, I have recently discovered that there this boy who constantly sits next to me on the window seat. This anonymous boy who has always been sitting next to me, and I do not even know who he is. Every time I peeked at him, he peeks at me. Every time I stand up to leave the train, he leaves with me. But when I depart the train, he is always nowhere to be seen.

This boy, dressed in his white hoodie, looked like a porcelain doll. Delicate to the eye, fragile to the touch. Nothing about this boy is interesting. From his features to his attire, to his posture; he looks like a normal kid who you would fail to notice on the streets, or in your neighborhood. He always has his white wireless earphones plugged into his ears, always in his own world. His facial features were pale as ghosts. It looked as if his features had some sort of transparent nature as if he was Mr. Cellophane.

One time, I managed to get a glimpse of this boy’s eyes and it was darkest hazel eyes that I have ever seen. It looked so distant, yet so familiar. It was so dark that it looked as if you could look into his eyes and never get a connection with him. As if a black hole resides within his pupils, dragging you deeper into his depressed state. You could tell that there are volumes of stories locked within his hazel eyes. But when you got close enough to unlocking these stories, before you realize it, you are trapped in his obsidian chamber.

Till this day, I still know nothing about this person, nor do I want to know any more about him.

As I stood up to depart the train, the boy stood up, mirroring my actions. Slowly, I waddled my way off the train. I looked around. Again, he was nowhere to be seen. I peered into the window of the train, and there he was, peering through the window, looking at me.

I left him on the train. He looked sad. I looked sad. But we both know that it is for the best to leave him on the train. I waved goodbye. So did he.

I put on my white hoodie…

…and walked away.


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