She leaned over the edge of the platform to see if a train was in sight. Oddly enough, no one else was around except for the transient seeking a warm corner for his weary body. She passed by him just as he stumbled to the ground, leaving the stench of stale flesh in the air. She couldn’t quite explain what was rising from her chest and settling in her throat. It was as if she had been punched in the gut and the fist was still in position, thwarting her breath. It made her want to cry out. But she feared what people would think of her despite the fact that no one was there to hear.

Suddenly she heard the sound of an approaching train. A sense of relief washed over her, returning the color to her cheeks. With the train now in sight she stepped closer to the edge of the platform again. The train was now close enough to touch and she began to feel at ease.

The cars were a blur as they hummed and clattered past her, but there was something recognizable about the shadows within them. She caught glimpses of images and felt something oddly familiar about them. Were the passengers people she knew? Before she could truly be certain, they disappeared into the haze.

The train did not seem to be slowing down. Instead, it picked up momentum and was now simply rolling swiftly past her. She wanted to reach out her hand and stop it, but she knew her strength was not a force this strong. Her mind began to move quickly as she yearned to join the others on the train. Perhaps she would run as fast as she could and take a leap of faith as she hurled her body toward the train. Her fear held her back from this plan. She then wondered if she should climb back up the subway stairs and find her way through the city barefoot. The dirt would stain the soles of her feet, and she would never find her way.

Overcome by frustration, she rested against a concrete pillar, which she sought for strength. She pulled her knees to her chest as a tear streamed down her cheek. Wiping the tear, she felt something foreign under her finger tips. She rifled through her purse quickly and found a compact. She opened it hesitantly and with fear in her eyes, she stared at the image looking back at her. She barely recognized her own face with wrinkled skin and graying hair.

What seemed like a short time became infinity as she waited for that train to stop and let her on board. Minutes were really hours, hours were years, and years were decades. And she realized she had spent her life on the platform of the subway station…thinking, planning, waiting, hoping…but not living.