Week 5: Slamming Into The White Rabbit

2 Jan

She was on the platform, impatiently awaiting the metro, destination: home.

Hers was always the old model, squeaking and screeching all the way through. It’s an ominous sound that greets the new comers to the subway system, seemingly preparing them  for their impending death in a gruesome crash, whilst at the same time soothing the weary ears of veterans, every snap, crackle and pop a few more metres closer to base.

She thought: ‘It’s winter out, but in the tube all weather reports equate to zilch, the temperature here depends on how much of a heavy breather my fellow passenger will be.. Eh, even so, I think I’ll unbutton my coat’.

Strands of her dark hair started to levitate in a disorderly fashion, as if possessed by some sort of demon of the underground. She fixed herself up, firmly taking hold of her shoulder bag, because the metro was well on its way and about to make an appearance.

SCREEEECH.

Pufffff…

‘Hm, the graffiti artists did a nice job on this one. Big clear, shaded letters. XxGangsterZClaNxX. Not bad, talented hooligans, not bad.’ She courteously waits for the annoyed batch of people to exit the train and go out into the world and hopefully do no evil. As she walked onto the trembling, puffing dragon car and looked for a strategically placed spot to set up camp for the next twenty minutes, she noticed a relatively attractive boy a couple of metres away. A little short and a little dorky, he looked not much unlike the rabbit with the pocket-watch in ‘Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland’, in a hurry hurry hurry. ‘I wonder what’s up with him. People with glasses get to have two completely different faces, one with and one without them. What a lucky bunch. Wait, what am I saying, it’s better to have 20/20 vision, brainiac. Also, I’m getting pretty hungry. Should have bought that bagel’.

Her mind wandered from glasses to porridge and bagels and bears then back to the boy’s glasses, not because he was necessarily a catch, but simply because what else is there to do in a tube beneath the ground while it’ll all snap, crackle and pop that you hear.

After a brief buzzing noise, distinct from the others, the inbuilt radio spewed out some inaudible Romanian that roughly said: ‘Next stop, Eroilor, doors opening on the right side’.  ‘Oh dear’, she thought, ‘I’d better brace myself for the inevitable.’ Of course, she meant for the army of eager, agitated people that were about to come in, set fire, rape,  pillage and invade all that she loved and held close to her heart: her personal space. Eroilor was one of the busiest stations and she knew it all too well.

Soon enough, the doors opened wide and not many people stepped out of the car, yet many entered. After a few moments of pushing and shoving and the occasional passive-aggressive ‘excuse me’ among the new and old local population, she found herself right next to the pocket-watch boy who was leaning against the wall, observing the rustle and bustle because what else is there to do. The truly dramatic aspect of the whole situation was that she no longer had anything to hold onto. All rails were taken or out of reach, all strategy out the window, smack against the concrete wall. Everyone seemed to be settling down and the huffing and puffing dragon went about its course. There she was, on her feet in a moving vehicle, but basically in mid-air waiting to fall flat. The old conveyance had no mercy for the weak and would sling unsuspecting passengers to and fro like it was nothing.

However, everything was going fine. Despite the departure from ‘Eroilor’, a station of heroes indeed, she was still standing. ‘Everything went better than expected’, she mused. Pocket-watch boy was slightly more relaxed as well, less eager to jump out the window than before. She couldn’t tell if he was watching her or not, because she chose to look straight ahead, facing the doors on the right side. She was curious, naturally, but it was more important that he didn’t realize she would be. His eyes were shielded by the tinted glasses. ‘Who wears tinted glasses mid-winter?’. She had a point.

The next stop came and then the next one, but her balance was performing admirably. Granted, there were a few close calls, where there was a sudden break or when someone rushed by her as if she was a revolving door, but aside from that all was peachy. She was also sporting a look of detached seriousness, as if she had important business to attend to back home, documents to deliver, codes to crack, governments to overthrow.

From the corner of her eye she could’ve sworn she saw him glancing curiously. Even though he wasn’t the most interesting boy in the world, he was close enough and had curly enough hair to make her feel a little warm under the collar. ‘Goddamn it. The weather outside is deemed irrelevant, sure, but that doesn’t make my coat feel any less like it’s suffocating me. It’s like the air is made entirely of electric blankets’, she thought and squinted at the thought. The girl proceeded to take off her scarf, rather awkwardly too because it was caught beneath the strap of her bag and above her hair and boy, he was surely staring then.

‘It doesn’t matter’, she reassured herself,’ I’m fine, everything’s fine. I feel less warm and I’m getting off at the second station, turns out I didn’t need the damn rails anyway. I’m a rail-ly independent  woman hehehe.’ She smiled to herself because of the silly joke, but ceased to do so the second she suspected scrutinizing eyes .

The metro looked like it was coming to a nice and smooth halt, when all of a sudden snap, crackle,  pop, SCREEEEECH-

“AH, I’m.. I’m so sorry! The break, it-”she began apologizing.

“It’s fine, I know,  it’s fine” pocket-watch boy replied.

She was just getting back to her feet after utterly slamming into him, full body,  seconds before and knocking his glasses a little off the bridge of his nose. Her face was red as a boiled lobster by this point. Suddenly, the boy leaned in a little, interrupting her from the newly acquired look of frustrated, remorseful meekness.

“You know, I was actually thinking that you hadn’t held onto to anything the whole way here. I thought your feet were glued to the floor or something, but then you constantly changed expressions. It gave away how much effort you were really putting into it”, he said in a matter-of-fact kind of way.

“Heh, yeaaah… At first I thought, c’mon, you can do this, you can beat physics, but then at the end I was all…  Goddamn it, no you can’t.’, she said, half giggling.  The conversation ended there and the girl was left feeling like a complicit smile would have sufficed instead of the ramblings.

All of a sudden, she was no longer cool and collected. Or even cool for that matter. She was that awkward mess who talks just a little too much and who can’t keep her composure. Who was she kidding? Her look was that of a person that was obviously going home to escape the insanity, the pressure and to nestle into bed, with no consequence on any governments or codes. ‘What a drag’, she resigned.

At the next stop, they both exited the metro and went in different directions. She looked back, just to see if he was as much of a Lewis Caroll character this time around and he was. Moreover, he tripped over his shoelaces seconds into his sprint. A smile ran all across her face and she was glowing again.

Whilst rearranging her scarf and after a moment’s consideration, she made a game changing realization: ‘So he was looking at me, after all. Cheeky devil!’

With a spring in her step, the girl went about her own rabbit hole.

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2 Responses to “Week 5: Slamming Into The White Rabbit”

  1. theycallthewind Wednesday, January 4, 2012 at 9:30 pm #

    I like this! Well done. I can really imagine the whole scene, so vividly described.

    • unwantedthoughtssupply Wednesday, January 11, 2012 at 2:02 am #

      Ty! Would you believe it actually happened to someone I happen to know?:)

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