It screamed in my ears, piercing my eardrums.
I put my foot softly on the first brass step leading to the train, and it did not flex under my weight.
I listened to the soft padding of my feet against the worn oriental rugs as I walked slowly down the hallway. The designs twisted into patterns as ancient as time and I felt dwarfed under the enormity of their history.
I slipped quietly into an empty compartment and sat down, squeezing myself into the very far corner of the seat. The tough leather seats I sat on had melted from dark brown into a sweet and gentle caramel over the years. I traced my fingers over the fissures splitting up the leather into a million pieces, a story between every crack.
I heard the soft squeak of the trolley rolling by, and I closed my eyes and listened to its comforting jingle as the sound slowly faded down the hallway under the soft mumble of voices.
I exhaled softly and leaned my head against the window. The glass was cold against my sweaty face. The whistle screamed again, and I put my hand up to the window as we began to pull away from the station. I watched as proud parents with tears in their eyes turned to smudges as my breath steamed up the window, and I turned away, my fingers dragging lines into the fogged up glass.
I couldn't bear the absolute heaviness of the absence of the one tall and pale father figure my heart craved. I hung my head into my damp fingers, cold contrasting sharply with heat as the two slowly adjusted. I put my elbows on my knees and screwed my eyes shut, never wanting to open them again.