Robert stopped. Did that just happen? Did she just speak to him? No, she couldn’t have. His ears were lying to him, his brain sending signals that did not exist. This happened often. Robert often imagined things that weren’t real. This, he decided, was not real. He settled down into his seat, that rough hard carpet that makes up train seats and continued staring out the window. He was disappointed, yes, but satisfied with himself. He had successfully determined reality from his imagination.
“Sorry, did you hear me? Could I sit here, please?”
Robert jerked his head back. His eyes tried to focus. This was really happening.
Every day he sat on his train; an endless commute to nowhere. Did it really matter where he went every day? No, it didn’t. Every day he rode this train and every day the feeling grew stronger that he didn’t belong anywhere at all. Why else would someone take a train everyday to a place they didn’t live? Robert lived alone, if you could really call it living. When he entered his apartment each night, he thought he might be in the wrong place. Who’s to say? When he came home there was no one to say “Hello Robert, I’m glad you exist, don’t forget that you belong here. Don’t ever forget that.” Because of this, Robert often forgot.
“Oh! Yeah, I mean, there’s no one sitting there. Here. You can sit there, please.”
Robert tasted the words on his tongue. He realized that those were the first words he had spoken that morning. The realization killed him inside, it really did.
Every day she saw him. Sometimes she though that he was watching her, other days, she was pretty sure. This may seem odd to you, but she didn’t really mind. Sitting on this train every day killed her, it really did. Everywhere else, she existed, lived and was so terribly alive, but not on this train. It was as if people were only aware of the fact
that bodies occupied space on a train seat. The fact that hearts pumped and blood flowed and mouths salivated and expressions changed meant nothing to them. She couldn’t stand it. Some days on that train she felt like standing up on her seat holding a bright red flag. She would wave her flag and scream “I EXIST AS MORE THAN A BODY! APPRECIATE MY EXISTANCE! LOOK! I HAVE BLOOD RUNNING THROUGH ME AND MY HEART HAS BEEN BEATING SINCE THE DAY I WAS BORN!” She felt like grabbing people’s hands, just to feel another human, just to feel the warmth and to imagine their veins flowing with blood. She though about this often; about how exactly she would stand on her chair without bumping her head on the ceiling. She went though the motions in her mind, over and over and over. She though it was beautiful that he could watch her, simply to appreciate her existence as a human being. Some days, she didn’t even care if he was a creep or a pervert; though she couldn’t help believing that he wasn’t.
When he looked at her, caught her eyes and then averted them with embarrassment, she didn’t feel like she needed to scream. This is why, when he watched her, she didn’t really mind.
“It’s cold outside, isn’t it?”
Robert thought for a moment. Yes, it was cold, he decided. That morning he’d woken up in his bed with the covers thrown onto the floor. He had lain on his bed and shivered. He’d woken from a dream he couldn’t remember, and this always fascinated him. A regular, conscious man like Robert would not violently throw his blankets at the floor. But somewhere in the night, somewhere in his brain there was a dream that provoked him to move. He imagined that he could become a dangerous criminal in his
dreams. Robert didn’t want to be violent, or a criminal, but it did fascinate him.
He realized he hadn’t said anything. If he spoke now, it might be awkward. But this silence? He couldn’t take it, he really couldn’t.
“Yes, it’s cold. It really is very cold. I can see my breath.” He blew into the air.
She smiled.
She liked it, sitting there beside him. She liked that he was wearing a coat that crinkled in the most comforting way. She felt like she existed, there beside him. It is a strange feeling, being acutely aware of your own existence. It is a good feeling, though. She liked it. She couldn’t explain it.
Robert felt like he was going somewhere.
She brushed his arm; it was an accident, though you might assume it wasn’t.
“Oh, I’m sorry…”
Why do we need to apologize for existing in the same place?
