One late night on my way to work, I was strolling, headed to the subway station. The glare of oncoming vehicles was accompanied by the sound of tires splashing along the drowning roads. The construction work on the way had ground to a halt because of the frequent rain. Inhaling petrichor as I walked made me feel right at home until I reached the subway station.
Everything went silent after descending the slippery stairs. The city lights were no longer visible and I was greeted with stale industrial lights. The only source of entertainment was my watch counting down the expected train’s arrival. I approached the tracks, observing my watch for a moment. I smiled brightly, realizing I was thirty seconds early. I felt a gaze on me, noticing another person on the other side of the tracks.
She spoke moments after exchanging eye contact: “I will not ask where you’ve been, but I will ask, ‘Where are you going?’” Her question puzzled me but before I could respond, we were interrupted by the incoming train. I boarded the train only to find she had disappeared — neither boarding nor still standing on the platform.
The sliding door closed, I leaned against one of the poles staring at where she stood. Moments later, the train began speeding toward the next stop. Her question festered in my brain. A few moments later, the train came to a stop and I exited the train, moving toward the stairs. I stopped for a moment, finally realizing my answer and – enlightened – uttered, "The same destination as you.”
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