The train accelerates, leaving the city enveloped in a dense pink hue. The beaten carriages rush towards suburbs, desperate for country air and wide-open spaces.

 

The tightly wound shoulders of fellow commuters loosen a little with each stop while lowered heads and twitching thumbs search for connection.

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Through the graffiti-etched train window, the next station approaches.

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As the electronic door opens, a welcome breeze blows my long loose hair out of my face.

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A tall guy, in his early twenties, steps aboard and sits opposite me. He drops his bag on the floor between his feet and smiles at the purple-haired lady sitting next to me by the window. As his eyes meet mine, a small dimple appears on his cheek.

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The doors close and the train whirs forward.

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‘I’m Jack,’ he says.

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The woman next to me smiles and looks at her phone.

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‘Sophie.’ My cheeks burn and my neckline prickles. I pull a book out my bag and use it to shield me from the flow of energy that’s swirling between us.

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Patches of sweat under Jack’s arms, bleed into his light-blue work shirt, and his wristwatch and formal trousers suggest it’s been a long day at the office.

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The carriage jolts and I lurch forward.

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Jack reaches out. ‘You okay?’

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I nod. The train rocks as it speeds up, and the gardens of terraced houses rush by quicker than usual.

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The speed of the train is cranked up again and Jack frowns. I glance around the carriage. No one is looking at their phone anymore. Instead, they look at each other with concern.

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The next station dashes past and my heart races.

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A fierce screeching cuts through the air and bright sparks blaze outside our window.

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Jack stands and our carriage tilts.

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Under the sound of twisting metal, my scream goes unheard.

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The lights go out and I’m slammed against the window.

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Pain rages through my head and everything becomes still.

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I shift my aching body and blood drips into my eye. The violet-haired lady lies on a bed of shattered glass and holds her arm. Jack lies on his back, unconscious.

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I crawl to him and feel for a pulse, but there isn’t one.

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I link my hands, start chest compressions, then take a deep breath and blow air into his lungs.

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An iciness seeps into my bones, then nothing.

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My eyes fix.

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I can’t breathe.

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I am frozen.

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A blackness devours my awareness and I am infinite. I am all.

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A blinding light fills the carriage.

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I gasp and convulse.

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A crushing weight presses against my chest—a body.

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I roll it off and catch the icy stare—it’s me!

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I sit up and hold out my shaking hands. The blood-stained cuffs of a light-blue shirt reveal the smashed face of a wristwatch I’m wearing.

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‘Who am I?’ I choke. My voice is deep and ragged.

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 The woman who sat next to me winces. ‘You told us your name was…Jack.’

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The End

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© Michelle Upton

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