A Story A Day. Story 318 of 365: Metro.

It was late at night and the metro station was almost empty, at that hour it was mostly groups of tweens going back home, young couples snuggling, and her. She was on the platform, looking at the tracks, her stare lost. Trains passed in front of her eyes. Braking, opening the doors, beeping, and she didn't even flinch at it. People passed nearby, some of the drunk ones almost bumping into her, yet she stood in place. She would have seemed a statue if it weren't for the wind blowing her hair, and the occassional shifting of her weight from one foot to the other.

No one paid attention to her, she was no one. Her dark hair, dark eyes, and dark skin made her one of the thousands of people who passed by the station. She was plain, nothing set her apart, and that was the reason why no one realized that she was the girl who always stood there looking at the tracks. It could have been different girls, but it was always her. 

If someone had asked her why was she doing that, she wouldn't have known what to reply. The first time she did it she was actually planning to jump into the tracks. However, she didn't. She was sure about her decission, she was tired of living, there was nothing meaningful in her life, nothing to stimulate her. She was bored. Yet, standing there, looking at her immediate death, she saw something hidden, something calling her, teasing her, challenging her. There was a pattern there, but it was hidden, and she decided she couldn't die until she had discovered what was it. And that was what she was doing. And that was what she would have told anyone who dared to ask. But no one ever asked.