Framed Perspective

The night before I was cooking myself dinner in the apartment I shared with my friend from University who was named Cathy. She was out of station, leaving the cold, lonely and empty apartment all to myself. My attention was focussing on the sizzling sliced chicken on the pan frying with oil, until there was a laugh feminine laughter came from the next block, followed by a gleam of yellow lights flickered behind the sheath curtain. 

Followed by, “You’re home!” The woman exclaimed and went ahead to wrap her husband around with her wide arms who had just got back from work. They’re the couple I had spent days observing, with names called Jason and Jess. Those aren’t actually their real names, but nevermind, a name doesn’t mean much if it was only for labelling. 

That could be me and him...I thought to myself. About the days we used to spend with each other. I missed the way we used to cook dinner together, watching late night shows and ended up chasing time. There were so many things we did together that tells me it will never happen again. How a once happy memory was infected by sadness. A shiver woke me up from my thoughts, pulling me up with an invisible hand from the thoughts that were slowly swallowing me whole. 

I cursed at the side of the burned chicken breast and placed it down with a fork on a plate from the cabinet. I settled the platter of meat and a few stir fried broccoli and chopped up carrots on the dinning and proceeded to the fridge where a bottle of wine was chilled in. I popped up the cap and gulped a mouthful of wine, feeling the alcohol burning down my throat and the sweetness tapping at the tip of my tongue. Then, I slumped down on the wooden chair and let out a tired sigh.

The plate creaked as I sliced the burned chicken with a butter knife for all I care. It tasted bitter, salty and sweet, only for a moment. Everything started to taste like ash and goo when I chewed them for more than two seconds, just like how tasteless my life has gone. From a normal life turned into a life you would wish you’re better off dead. 

I let my eyelids hang heavily from the wine as I sat on the ragged couch in the living room with the tv lights shining on my face. The lights turned blurry and then darkness.

I was asleep.

“Rachel,” a sound called out for me. It seemed and felt distant. “Wake up, Rachel. Aren’t you going to be late for work?”

I blinked the tears from my eyes and my vision began to shake. It took me a moment to realise it was Cathy who was calling out for me, both of her hands shaking me by my slumped shoulders.

“What’s the time?” I said with my voice hoarse and unawakened. I rubbed my face and dragged my heavy body up from the couch. 

Cathy checked her watch on her wrist that I gifted her during her birthday five years ago. Surprised that she was still keeping them in pieces. 

I shot up from the couch when she said the time. I cursed and rushed to my room and got changed as quickly as I could. Because I had lost not just one of my jobs but several, I couldn’t afford to lose this one too.

Cathy shouted for me when I sprinted down the hallway and threw me an energy bar. Train station would be one of my destinations to go, other than that, nowhere feels like home and destinations are all fogged up in misery.

Munching on the energy bar with my feet sprinting towards the train station. Judging by the cloudy sky with grey patches like it was going to infect every part of the sky, it’s going to rain. I only made it to the train on time. Sweat slided down my back and stained my shirt. The air conditioner in the train was doing nothing good except for drying the sweat beading on my temple.

I watched a pair of couples pass by me and took a seat by the window in-front of me. Followed by a family with two kids, a girl and a boy, settled down at the window seat beside me. The thoughts were hard to handle, me and Tom would have been a family if we did not divorced years ago. They could’ve been me, teaching our kids how to walk from little steps, teaching them how to talk word by word. There could’ve been more of an interesting life if we were still together. I snapped myself out from the thoughts and crumpled the bar wrapping in my hand. Angry at myself for allowing myself to think something and be sad just because I know I couldn’t turn around and live the life I used to. But what could I do? How to be miserable when I already am? Or should I ask-

How and when did I let myself be so miserable?

I propped my elbow on the window pane of the train and stared out of the window. And aimed for the floor where Jess and Jason lived. I was far away from the building, but I could imagine Jess making breakfast for the both of them, then pressed her lips on Jason’s forehead and waved him goodbye. Is everyone's relationship the same as theirs? Or is it just me who’s different from the others, in a bad way?

Far away, I noticed a pile of clothes crumpled beside the train track. Then, the train ran over it. Just a pile of clothes, people must have left it or thrown it because it was unusable anymore.

  The sky roared, beads of rain splattered on the tinted window, followed by more of them. I sighed and leaned my head to the seat and hugged my bag.

  Like the barking chained dog in it’s leash, I’m chained to my life and pass. I let the rain stain my hair, and the wind pulled out strands of loose hair. Most of the time, there weren’t any interesting things to do at work. I would deliver mail to a few desks, serve some of the worker’s their lunch, and make coffees. They treated me like a maid they owned, without a thank you. The air conditioning inside of my office sent a shocking chill, making me shiver. People were focussing on their work, and didn't even bother to look up or greet me. I placed down my bag from my shoulder and took off my damp coat, hanging it at the back of my chair. My attention went straight to the pile of papers and mails, ready for me to fax and send. I sighed and scooped them up in my arm and headed to each desk and passed them out.

  In the end of the day, I made my way back to the train station and rode a ride back home that doesn’t feel like home. I pushed the door and stepped out of the train compartment, letting the night breeze slap my cheek. I stood behind the hand drill, afraid if I fell, my life would end so quickly that nobody would notice. The other compartment of the train creaked as it slammed together.

“Mind if I join you, Miss?” A manly voice came from behind. 

I turned over my shoulder and saw a man, almost at the same age as me. With a head of black hair and dark blue eyes that looked dark in the night. He got a collared shirt with a loosened tie, as if he had just free from his work.

I shook my head and stared out to the fast moving night sky.

“Accidents happen everyday, don’t you agree?” He asked beside me, his gaze was too, on the pile of clothes on the railway now covered in flowers in wrapping, candles and photos. “May I ask for your name?”

Hesitation surrounded me, yet I told him, “R-Rachel.” It has been a while since anyone has asked for my name. “And incidents do happen, everyday.” 

“What we see is what we need to let go one day.” The man said. This could just be some random life lesson from the others. But I found this rather interesting, nothing actually stays forever.

The train rang when our destination had arrived. The man gave me one last look and disappeared into the crowded station. I should have asked for his name, only his name would do. 

Nevermind, I know we’ll meet again sometimes and talk more about life. Still, I wasn’t sure if I could escape from this tunnel of miserables, yet I know I would, one day.