Catching the Train by dePaul Miller

​There are tons of people to my left and right as the train gradually approaches my frozen body. It is 6:18. The conductor is standing on the metal steps of the train, and jumps down on the yellow line that regular commuters like me aren’t supposed to step on. The train continues to move and stops with a loud screech. My ears hurt from the noise as I move with the crowd surging toward the stairs leading to the inside. By my side is Trent Chinnaswamy; I let him go on in front of me. He walks up very quickly, as fast as a speeding bullet. I am too tired to walk, and follow very slowly, like a sloth. It is warm inside as Trent and I try to find a three-seater. We walk up the stairs to the top of the car, and sit down on the purple seat. We put our bags, both the color black, in front of our legs. I pull my iPad out of my bag and stick my black on-ear headphones into the input jack.
He asks me, “Are you gona text Port today or should I.”
“Is your phone on?”
“Yeah.”
“Then you’re gona text him.”
Trent pulls out his worn-down, scratched-up, black phone and starts tapping on the keyboard. From experience I know the message most likely says something along the lines of “car 2 top”.
We pull into Walpole’s train station, and hear the conductor say, “Now arriving at Walpole, Walpole.”
We sit there and then all of a sudden Mike Portanova (Port) is by my side. I move over to give him space. He sits down, and the train starts moving, as if him sitting down is a cue to move. I hear a feminine, robotic voice come on the speakers to say, “Now arriving at Walpole.”
I know we are leaving Walpole though, and I turn my iPad on, enter in my four number pass code, and turn on some music. I lean my head against the seat in front of me, my headphones pushing into my head. The last thing I hear before I fall asleep is “This could be para-para-paradise.”
“Now arriving at Back Bay, Back Bay.”
My head snaps up, I am awake. I look out the window to my left and see darkness. I just sit and the train starts moving. The sun starts to shine through the window. The sun is as bright as happiness that radiates through each and every one of us. As the sun warms the car up, Trent slings his bag over his shoulder and jumps over Mike and me to run down the stairs that are behind us. Mike and I give each other looks and I can tell we are both thinking why is Trent so excited to get off the train, but we follow after him.
Mike takes his bag and slings it over his shoulder. He says, “Come on.”
I take my iPad, turn it off, and stand up while slinging my bag over my shoulder. I follow him down the stairs and wait for the train to stop. Trent is in front of us, so he opens the door once the train enters the station. When the train is stopped, Trent gets off. Mike and I follow. I know it is going to be a good day.