City of Shared Stories
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I am seated in the left-most seat at the middle section of this two-car train: there are six seats in this section, three on each end. There are five seats per row at the heads of both trains, and two rows of four seats in between. The LRT, taking people from one end of this city to another, sees passengers come and go each day, often leaving each person inside overlooked, or in rare cases, a curiosity never to be seen again.
Today is not one of those days.
Today I know every one of the passengers in this end. Beside me is the heavyset woman putting her tudung on, like she always does right as we pass Bangsar; to her right, the young man with spiked hair sporting a new color (his third - it was 'blond' in July, and red in November). Across me, the nursing student idly looks up and mumbles something to herself, something I know she will not stop doing until we arrive at the Universiti station. A teenaged couple takes the last two seats, the girl so fragile and petite that you could argue the two could probably just squeeze into one seat.
I look up towards them, we, the regulars of this route. All five others catch my gaze. It stays locked for the briefest moment, and then we all look away. We will never know each other, but we are comrades.
Today is not one of those days.
Today I know every one of the passengers in this end. Beside me is the heavyset woman putting her tudung on, like she always does right as we pass Bangsar; to her right, the young man with spiked hair sporting a new color (his third - it was 'blond' in July, and red in November). Across me, the nursing student idly looks up and mumbles something to herself, something I know she will not stop doing until we arrive at the Universiti station. A teenaged couple takes the last two seats, the girl so fragile and petite that you could argue the two could probably just squeeze into one seat.
I look up towards them, we, the regulars of this route. All five others catch my gaze. It stays locked for the briefest moment, and then we all look away. We will never know each other, but we are comrades.
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