A woman is crying on the phone. She speaks in an apologetic manner. She says she's sorry for having run out of time. I heard her rural voice first, every time the automatic door opened, and saw her later. A fairly aged lady in an inappropriate leather jacket. Her hair was short and reminded me of instant noodles. The snack waggon comes along and I buy crackers.
Another woman is holding her sleeping child's hand, a boy of about six years. He's wearing an Angry Bird sweater with remnants of a brownie on it. I just thought that the chocolate colour went together well with his navy long-sleeve, but then I noticed how the crumbles looked like the boy was trying to feed the red and yellow bird on his belly. Sleep well, little kid.
A man snores like a walrus. He snores as if his life depended on the decibel level. The snore of the century, in a train compartment filled with at least fifty other people. I close my eyes and let out a sigh. Today I woke up after a long day's short rest, I saw the dog that bit me four years ago and wished him death for twenty minutes, and I had a burger by the ocean. Now I need some sleep.
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