The Commute

Every morning, without fail, during her usual commute to work, Leah noticed him. He always sat in the same seat, near the middle of the train, right by the window. His face never changed expression, his eyes fixed on the passing blur of the city outside. He was tall, with dark hair that was slightly unkempt, and always dressed in an old brown coat, even during the summer heat. He never got on, and he never got off. He simply was, like a part of the train itself.

One day, Leah sat across from him. Close enough to study, but far enough to avoid suspicion. She watched him as subtly as she could, waiting for some sign of movement, some flicker of life. But he didn’t blink. He didn’t shift in his seat. His gaze remained fixed out of the window, as if he were staring at something far beyond the city.

More days passed, and Leah became obsessed. One Friday morning, she decided to confront him. As the train rattled along the tracks, Leah stood up, crossed the aisle, and sat down next to the strange man. The seat didn’t feel different, but the air around him was unnaturally cold.

She looked at his face. Up close, he seemed even more unreal. His skin was pale, his hair slightly grey at the temples. His eyes—still focused on something distant outside—were an empty shade of brown. Leah spoke.

“Do you… do you ride this train every day?”

The man didn’t respond. His eyes didn’t move. Leah shifted in her seat, feeling a sudden wave of unease. She tried again, louder this time.

“I see you here every morning.”

For a moment, she thought he wouldn’t reply. But then, slowly, his head turned towards her. His movements were stiff, as if he hadn’t moved in years. His eyes met hers, and Leah felt transfixed.

The man’s expression didn’t change. His voice was calm, detached. “You’ve been watching me.”

She tried to stand, but her body wouldn’t move. The train began to slow, the air growing stale… she looked around in a panic, yet no one else on the train seemed to notice—they sat motionless, as if the moment had frozen for them.

The train lurched to a stop. The world outside the window blurred into a deep darkness, but the passengers around her remained still, like statues in their seats.

The man stood, the cold air brushing her shoulder as he moved past. He stepped off the train at the stop, and disappeared into the fog that had rolled in.

The doors slid shut, the train pulled away. Leah stared out of the window, her mind now numb, her body motionless, as the train rattled along the tracks. The passengers around her began to stir, as if nothing had happened—but Leah remained frozen, her stare fixed in the distance, beyond the window.