I stood in front of the train station’s entrance, observing. People passed through me like swarms of flies, some fast, some slow. Two teenagers caught my eye, they were multitasking. Both girls walked slowly past the gates, talking to each other, while looking intently at their phones, as if they were speaking to each other through the microphones. A boy, running for the train, accidentally pushed one of the girls, just hard enough to snatch her out of the semi-virtual conversation. She got angry, but the boy had already disappeared. An old lady bumbled along, pulled in different directions by three big dogs she held on to. A family of five tried to go through the exit rather than the entrance, although the pathway was clearly labeled for commuters to get out. The exiting swarms did not care about what the family wanted to do, so the family gave up and re-entered through the correct entrance.

I thought it was like life, no matter in what manner we went through the gate, or how many times we tried to enter, everyone would eventually catch the train. Only those who stood still would miss the train, like me, because I was still observing. Maybe I should go too.