Mala

Mala

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  • Mala
    Published about a year ago
    The Never Ending Train

    The Never Ending Train

    As I step onto the 17:33 train, I feel everyone's eyes manoeuvre to my shaking body; each stare stabs me like a burning, molten iron sword. My legs are pinned to the filthy floor, my body swaying to the rhythmical movement of the carriage, like a drunk man at a bar. I slightly adjust my head so that my gaze can focus on something that isn't a gaping face. However, darkness has kidnapped every photon of light causing the carriage doors to display my reflection.