Train faces
I take the train home every day. My train matches the pace and direction of the train beside it. The two slide back forth, alternating between leader and follower, and the rows of faces in the windows glide with the trains.
We are separated only by two panes of glass. And back and forth the trains go, showing me his face and her face once and twice.
Then my train, the Express train, gathers itself and charges ahead, leaving the rumbling Red to make another stop.
I often think how strange it is that I will never again see many of those people in my lifetime. I often think how strange it is they will look me in the eye through the two panes of glass more readily and more fiercely than anywhere else we might pass. I often think how strange a world it is that we have crafted for ourselves, this.