The rough noise made by the series of wheels repeatedly hitting the rail; the constant rumbling of that filled the car; the swaying bags hung on the side— violent, turbulent, yet comforting. I remember that day like yesterday while, in fact, I totally forget when it actually happened. Did it actually happen? How did it go again?

Right.

The only thing that bothered me that night was my leg that gradually got numb. afterall , despite deliberately booking the most comfortable seat, I had to move for another passenger, an elderly woman.

So there I was, struggling with the seat that’s a tad bit too small for my frame. A few hours in and I got used to the discomfort that it was. Still, I couldn't feel at ease enough to close my eyes and let my mind skip this tedious part of the journey in my sleep. I was hardly in the mood for music so only one ear was plugged with a looping song that could barely be heard.

Bobbing up and down, repeatedly—I was starting to get bored by my own reflection on the glass window. What’s behind was the darkness of the night with the occasional inklings of light.

“Taking the scenic seat is kinda useless at night, eh?”

There wasn’t much to do at that point. The further we got, the more detached it felt. No matter how much I felt the contact through those prominent vibrations along my seat, the car I was in and the others connected to it acted like a cage moving in its own world. It wasn’t unlike how we felt about our own planet—moving in its own way detached from every other like it.

I let my surroundings gradually turn to a blur. The moment I closed my eyes, everything outside the confines of that cage transformed into a surreal abstract. Nothing was real despite the hard truth that it was. As far as I was concerned, earth ceased to exist the moment I passed that threshold at the edge of the platform, it would return when I crossed another one—a perfect liminal world of our own.

Yes, I believe that was the last thought I had when my mind decided to drift away into the nothingness of my subconscious—a long way to say I fell asleep.

“Where are you going?”

I believe I already told you. I am not exactly sure about the reality of it but my mind remembers it vividly. That night a voice woke me up. It was the voice of a young boy. He was sitting to my left, unattended. He was probably 8-to-10 years old—hard to tell. All of the lights but one in the middle were dimmed, emphasizing the eeriness of that strange boy.

“The future.”

“The future? Where is it?”

“Where? I–" Was it doubt? I don’t remember but something prevented me from answering that question right away.

“Do you even know what it is?”

I stood up and walked past the kid through whatever gap between him and the seat in front of us. No one was there. The seats that were supposed to be full were all empty.

“Where am I?”

“Indee. Where are you, really?”

Faint light could be seen through the small glass window on the door upfront. The space between us was lit up, showing the next car that was full of people.

“I’m not sure, but I do need to go there, right?”

I walked to the door, reaching its handle.

“Do you really have to?”

“Don’t you need to go too? Everyone is going there, kid.”

He looked around. “There’s no one else here. We’re free to pick where to sit. This freedom, isn’t it nice?”

“Sure—” I shrugged, “for a while. But ultimately, the train is going to one destination and we’re in it. There’s nothing we can do.”

“How so?”

“That’s just how it is. It’s spacious but it’s a moving cage, you see. You can run around, move around, but ultimately you can’t pick where the train is going.”

“What if I don’t like the destination?”

“I guess there’s nothing we can do about it.”

The boy looked dejected but his eyes were fixated onto the scenery. I didn’t realize it at first but I missed that moment of sunrise where everything showed under the gentle light. I don’t know how to tell you but everything I saw that day was out of this world. Joy. Yes, I believe what I felt that day was joy.

“I like where that other train is going.”

“I see,” I unlocked one of the windows and opened it. The turbulent wind pushed me a little before changing to a kinder breeze. “There, let's look at it for a bit.”

I sat back in my seat and let the boy stand in front of me with his hands on the window frame. He was excited to see what’s out there. He was mesmerized in the melody that the wind created and the words those flower fields wrote. I couldn’t help but enjoy it too with him. His eyes were beaming with joy as he studied the little intricate beautiful details of the hills, the fields, the stream—everything that the other train was passing by.

It wasn’t that prominent at first but the gap between the two trains was getting wider and wider. It slowly made its way away from us.

“I’d like to board that one afterall.”

“I understand, buddy, but do you see that?”

I let my head out through the opened window and pointed at the station that was left behind. It was standing far in the horizon.

“We missed the station.”

“Is there no other way?”

“Well, we can try to jump or leap over but—”

“The gap is too big.”

“Yes,” I ruffled the boy’s hair, comforting him. “Now that you understand, let’s go.”

“Do we really have to? Can’t we stay here?”

“Hm–” I put my hand to my chin, scratching it. “Come with me. Just a bit.”

I guided the boy to the door. I lifted him up so he could see through the small glass panel. We both could see everyone else there, those who were going towards the same destination but with pride in their eyes. Their faces beamed with life and shone with joy.

“That’s how it should be. The windows are closed off and safe while they are all focusing on this particular train’s destination.”

“They look content.”

“Yes, and we should too.”

The boy struggled and squirmed his body away from my grasp. He ran towards the opened window again and continued looking outside.

“And that’s why we should ride that one instead!” He said firmly.

“Why do you think so?”

“Because you don’t have that same face. Riding that one is the only way for us to have the same feelings!”

“Pride? Joy? Fulfillment?”

“Happiness!” He turned to me with a convincing smile. Happiness, right, I remember him talking about happiness. I’m starting to think of why I’m even telling you this story. It’s absurd but I really don’t remember why.

At that time, I felt like I understood the boy so I sat down a little bit in the distance, looking at him who was brimming with light. Even now, I don’t really remember when was the last time I had such an expression. One thing I vividly remember is the fact that at the time, I noticed the other train going further and further away.

“You’re not going to leap over?” The boy looked at me, curious.

“I tried. So many times before. I just can’t.”

“But they can,” he pointed at other people who leapt over to the other trains, all going in different directions.

“True,” I stood up and walked to the door. “Compared to them, though, I’m just not strong enough.”

“Did you not really want to?”

The boy got off of his seat. He looked worried and curious. I turned to him as I unlocked the door, opening it fully. I crouched to him and put my hand on his shoulder.

“Oh, I did. That was the only thing I wanted.”

“I see. But you’re still staying on this train?”

“Yes.”

“I see, then this is goodbye. I will be here, though. Just in case.”

He smiled at me giving reassurance. His face was telling me that anytime I was ready to take the leap, he would be there. But I just couldn’t have it that way. I don’t fully recall his expression at the time when I grabbed his hand. I didn’t fully understand why but I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him there. I couldn’t let him keep that door open. I couldn’t let him stare at the scenery any longer. I needed to tell him that it was the time to lock everything up and join everyone.

So I dragged him with all my might.

I could feel him struggling, trying to get away from me. I tried my best to ignore all the pain that he inflicted, the wounds he made, and the guilt he carved. He cried the loudest scream I had ever heard while everyone in that other car stayed unbothered. They didn’t even flinch as the cry echoed away.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, suppressing all of his wailing cries with a white noise I generated myself inside my heart. Gradually, that cry turned to a muffled hum that later grew to a ringing sound I constantly hear until now as I tell you this story.

I looked around and found an empty seat, the one on the furthest back with a huge gap from everyone else. Isolated. Alone. Left behind. I put my earphones back, blasting silence with it. I kept my head facing forward, keeping myself away from the scenery as I faked a smile of joy, of pride, hoping to make it till the end of the ride.

I don’t know why I'm telling you this story. It just happened to emerge in my memory. So, I’m not exactly sure. One thing I know is that the boy’s scream is still ringing until now, begging me to give him life or at least for me to apologize.

But I know.

I will never tell him that I’m sorry.

Because I know.

I know full well that he will never forgive me.