Subway At Night (Flash Fiction Story)

There was only one other person sitting on the dirty bench next to the dirty walls under the dirty ground on that Tuesday night at 3:30 AM in Arbor Station.  He smelled like piss, and I wanted to move.  The lopsided clock became the focal point of my vision, the hands ticking slower with each passing second.  Trains run late, I realized this.  They run later when you want them to run earlier, and earlier when you need a moment to catch your breath.  He hadn’t said a word, and neither had I.  The silence was agonizing.  Finally the rumbling of the train crept into the sight of my ears, sending a wave of relief through me.  The smelly old man stood slowly, and shuffled towards the tracks.  There was an eagerness to his movements, slow as they were.  He stopped directly at the edge of the platform, and peered down the tracks, clearing his throat.  I wanted to cry out as I realized what was happening in front of me.  I wanted to run forward and grab him before he stepped off of the edge.  I wanted to convince him to change his mind.  But I didn’t.  The train arrived on time that night, 3:35 AM.  It didn’t stop at Arbor Station.  Nobody to pick up.