In Between The Morning

I arrive at the station and notice my next train is in 20 minutes. I realise I don’t have to rush down the steps with my bike.

a woman is washing the steps
she tells me
to take the elevator

I suppose I hear an echo in her voice, how many times has she repeated those same soapy words, how many times has she washed all those footsteps away?
The other people on the platform are flipping through their phones, sharing everything but sharing nothing with each other. Did we use to speak or just move around?

on the bench next to me
a woman sits down
says hello

The bench is metal, made of lots of tiny holes. It’s cold against my back and reminds me of the winter in England. I think about sitting next to red hot radiators. I remember her bedroom and the wooden floor.
Perhaps it seems strange to everyone else that I’m writing with a pencil in my notebook. The woman next to me is reading. Perhaps no-one cares.

3 pigeons 
walk around my feet
one of my shoes is broken

Through the almost silence a train pours past without stopping. Fast. Really fast. I feel afraid that the back draft may suck me right onto the track. 
After, the recorded voice tells us to be careful when boarding and getting off the trains, that we don’t fall into the gap. I like her accent although the volume is a little too high.