Friday

Every Friday night, around 7 p.m, you headed to the train station. For the past three years this had been your tradition. You never were sure why, it was like an itch you had to scratch. 

That night you walked to the station, it was very close to your house. In hand was your plain black suitcase. It was empty of course you would not want to carry a filled suitcase, it would slow you down. The only reason you carried it was to fit in, to look like everyone else. Fitting in was what you were best at, your secret talent. 

When you stepped inside the bustling building you immediately sat down on your favorite seat. A wooden bench. The left side of course. You set the suitcase down by your feet, and folded your hands into your lap.

The reason you come on Friday evenings is because everyone has places to go on Fridays. Going home for the weekend or coming to new experiences in the big city. People had places to be, and so did you.

A tall man walked past you. He was the train conductor of the 5:45 train from D.C. Every Friday at precisely 7:08 p.m he gets off his train and heads home, or so you thought. You never really knew anything about him, or about any of the people you see. Sometimes guessing about other people's lives was the fun part. It was so easy to make up stories and fantasies, a way to get out of your world and into theirs. The man walked past and left. He did not notice you, most people here do not. They have things to do, lives to live.

An old lady strolled by. She had short white hair, and was wearing glasses. She had lived a happy life, you could tell from the small smile on her face. The place she was travelling was welcoming. Maybe she was visiting her grandchildren to tell them stories and make cookies. She was only carrying a purse, so she must be going home or somewhere similar. You hoped you would have a good life, and age like that lady.

Next you saw a young boy in his early twenties. He was wearing a nice suit, and had a satchel. The suit did not fit very well though, a little too big and a tad too long. You assumed it was borrowed from his father. He was walking somewhat fast, like he was late for a train. Although maybe that's just the way he walked, always wanting to be somewhere, afraid of missing out. You thought he was going to a job interview, possibly his first one. He was just out of college and wants to find a successful career. Or to a first date. Wanting to impress them, but did not have the right attire. A young romantic looking for a soulmate. He reminded you of your brother. Full of life, and always wanting to do what’s right. You wished you could warn this stranger that life is not perfect. He would not always find happiness, and would be often let down.

A woman and her young son walked by. The woman looked to be in her thirties, and the son no older than five. She looked tired, a single mother perhaps. He was her world though. The boy had brand new clothes and was holding a very nice stuffed animal. On the other hand the mother clothes were more worn and had stains. You thought they were going to see family. Being a single mother would not be easy away from family. They could also be going on vacation. The mother wanted to show her son the world, or at least a piece of it. You always thought of having children, but it never came along. You just were not sure if you could put someone else before you. Have someone depend on you for everything, always looking for answers even when you do not have them. The young boy looked at you with wide eyes, and you smiled back. He was the first one to notice you in a long time. Sometimes you think children can tell others feelings, but then you wondered where those senses go as they grow.

As the night progressed the station grew quieter. People came and went like they always had. A woman sauntered by. She was beautiful. Everything about her was perfect. Her hair, makeup, and satin dress told you that she was somebody. Famous you thought, no famous people would not be in dark train stations at night. If she was not important today, then you knew someday she would be. Maybe she was going to a party, or to meet up with friends. She could have just been going home, but liked dressing up. People admiring her beauty maybe gave her confidence. Compliments from strangers might have been the only way for her not to feel insecure. She could probably get anything she wanted in life. You were annoyed at her, jealous even. Why can’t I be like her? You thought. 

The station emptied out. There were only a few people and most of them were homeless looking for a place to rest. Across the station you saw a man around your age sitting on a wooden bench. You met eye contact, but you quickly looked away. He stood up and grabbed his suitcase. You could tell it was empty from its ease and the way it swung. How could you not, yours was also empty. He walked away not looking back at you. You picked up your suitcase and left too. You walked home in the cold darkness. You thought to yourself, was that man there for the same reason as I? The thought crossed your mind but you doubted it. For all you knew you were the only one. Though it did relax you to know there are people like you in the world. 

You walked home, and following Friday you returned.