In the Bleak Midwinter

Lunch has finished. We say good-bye and part once again, another good conversation and time spent in one another's company. It's been a long time since we talked, and a long time since we've been able to do that. I've been busy, as I suppose we all are, and I feel bad that I'm not around as much as I'd like. These are the thoughts that carry me to the subway. Nothing extraordinary about the day. Nothing extraordinary about this subway ride. Clamber down the stairs to the tracks. High school girls on the eastbound platform. Giggling, laughing, carrying on. Insults abound, but it's all in fun, right? Down the platform, closer to the end a girl sits alone. Despondent she swings her legs over the edge of the platform, waiting for the train. Despondent she swings her legs, waiting for something, anything to take away her pain. The train will come, the train will come and take her away. Take her away from the pain she's been fighting, from the masks she's been hiding behind. Behind her, a man approaches. Concern streaks his face, as the girl, despondent, swings her legs ever more intentionally, ever more dangerously over the edge. Can't you see the train is coming, the train it comes to take us away. But she doesn't want to be taken away. Not like that, in any case. Death in her eyes, tears unshed at the impending loss of life. Or was her life, long ago, taken away? Technorati Tags: Suicide, Toronto