It is one of my hasty mornings: rushing out of the shower, dressing half-wet, and chasing the clock as if punctuality could redeem the day. I didn’t bother to check how much was left on my transport card. Surely enough, I thought, at least three figures. The machine disagrees. The red light blinks its verdict: insufficient. The buzz is annoying, but it’s no longer an embarrassment. I don’t take it personally. A month ago, that same amount of money would have carried me through a few days, but now I can’t make a trip that’s only half an hour long. Around me, others stand stranded, missing the same train, faces turned toward the platform as it departs. The government had raised the fares again. The announcement must have come the night before, cloaked in the usual language of necessity.
silence
It’s easy to understand when friends go quiet. Life can feel like a full-time job, and you genuinely get it when they need to pull back. But those moments of solitude can become overwhelming, especially when you’re going through your own tough times. You make an effort to reach out and let them know you’re there for them when they reappear.