SUNDAY EVENING

Stranded in the dark, the day has used us up and spat us out here on the platform.  We wait and no-one talks.  There’s the occasional cough which causes glances of annoyance, how dare you break the silence, we are mourning the weekend’s passing.  My heels punctuate the quiet as I pace restlessly.

‘Please stand well back from the platform edge, the train approaching Platform 2 is not scheduled to stop here ...’

Just a brief, crazy thought.  An unanswered impulse which passes with the fast train.  I don’t really have it in me to do that, I just don’t want to go home, is all.  I’m always thinking of ways of getting out of stuff.

Waiting, ten minutes to go, pacing again, the air is mild for winter.  Huh.  Look at our faces.  The day is through with us all and we’ve got nothing more to give.  Bodies are worn out, minds wrung out, we’re only half alive.

Five more minutes, three minutes, headlights approaching, two white pinpoints piercing the night and they call it.  The pause is over, our reflections are finished, we step up to the yellow line and get on the train.  Thought, impulse, desire all put to bed and left behind at the station.  Duty calls.  Life begins again.  We look to Monday.