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I could spend a minute writing a decent description of myself so you could understand me better. But fuck, are you worth my time?
The human form in front of me; scrawny and huddled up sporting sparse strands of hair reminded me distinctly of Gollum from Lord Of The Rings. His ass firmly implanted onto the seat as though a tube of Elephant was applied onto each buttcheek. Miserable, I thought to myself. Fucking miserable. The thoughts were directed though, not at the sleeping frail old man ahead but towards me myself and I.
The figure shuddered, ever so slightly. Yet it lit a glimmer of hope in my depths of my despair on this blue day they deem accursed. Mondays, always blue, never sunny, always fucking miserable; especially if you’re on a 45 minute train ride. Nevertheless, if he shuddered, he might wake, if he woke, he might rise, if he rose, I might sit. The thought brightened my gloomy dawn.
It was a reserved seat, supposed to be saved for the handicapped, pregnant, injured or people with toddlers who are to me, annoying if allowed to run around and holler their lungs out. Or whine, or cry, or laugh incessantly. I couldn’t care less it was a long ride, a long shot at getting a seat but even more so the start of a lengthy week. I was going to get my ass fixated on the seat the same way my eyes were dissecting, analysing and interpreting every bit of movement from Gollum’s doppleganger. In a flash, his hands moved faster than I’d seen before, not that I’d stared at him long but a minute on the train standing was akin to 10 seated. He shifted his hand to where I assumed were his pockets and took out a pair of glasses, gingerly put them on, straightened his back, stretched a little, and went straight back to dreamland.
Despair crept slowly back, defeating hope hands down. I have no reasonable explanation on as to why I felt so depressed when the chances of me getting a seat 10 minutes into my ride were more or less eliminated. Yet as I was wallowing and silently complaining in my mind a miracle happened. The doppleganger stood up, abruptly, and exited swiftly the moment train doors opened at the following stop.
Endorphins kicked in, a quick glance left and right, competition was absent. It was mine, all mine, my precious. I sat down, satisfied like a kid with candy. Yet it was short lived. Hell, short lived would be an overstatement. It was over in a millisecond. I turned a 180 degrees, planted my holy butt onto the seat, pre-warmed by its previous occupant and smiled, yet the moment I looked up, a frail elderly man in his eighties, half a foot in the grave, hobbled onto the train. A barrage of thoughts flooded my mind, the first was to instinctively sleep, for I was born bastard by nature, another was to give up my seat. The others which included glimpses of death and murder shall not be explicitly depicted. He started glancing around, we made eye contact, I had little options left. Scratch that, I didn’t have a choice. I begrudgingly stood up, forced a crescent mouth and signalled for the living dead to take my place.
Fuck My Life, my week had just begun.
