The Station

 

The clock at the station moves so slow. Weird echoes of voices and metal bounce from every angle. Footsteps echo 

At the far right is the news stand. There are stacks of papers from every country. The woman in front wears bright colors. Too bright this early. 

A slow walk past the burnt stale coffee and there to the left the exit. Dust particles dance high in the streams of light.

The rush and push out the doors as the heavy subway smells start to engulf 

A shove. A push. 

Expected but not expected

 he stands there 

“you look great!”