carriage , losing his briefcase to the closing door in the process . Bickering , arguments , and swearing are all common as people revert to their selfish needs . It is now that the pickpockets emerge ; wallets , watches , and bags seemingly disappear in the chaos .
However , in the endless gush of grey , it is that singular speck of pink that catches your eye . A lone , desperate cry strangled in that suffocating void of soullessness . A girl , desperately clinging to her doll , walks around hopelessly looking for her father . Those surrounding her pay no attention , their focus is solely on making their way onto the next available train . A hooded man approaches her ; she seems unfamiliar with him . However , within moments he ’ s holding her hand as he leads her away . Then you see another man , fright written across his face as he sprints out of the now-departing train , searching for his daughter .
The chime of the ancient clock on the left wall of the platform jolts you from your thoughts . It ’ s seven fifteen . Noticing the train approach , you collect your things , get up , and enter through the opening doors .
Yusuf Bouchelkia
18