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The monitor nods me a gentle welcome in the cutting breeze. "Six minutes", it greets me. "Six minutes," I greet back with a vengeful stare. I tip my glasses up with my left palm, and massage my eyes with the numbing appendages on my right.
"Six minutes," the monitor reasserts itself to me, the word hatefully scribed onto its shiny display.
I take a step back and slump down onto a nearby bench, tugging myself away further in my suit. I wish I have a proper jacket. But my pride and utter lack of fashion senses bar away from such logical option in my winter wears. Despite burying myself deeper into the silky chasm, the wail of dying winter wind manages to seep in and sheer my skin. I let my feet dance away the cold, drumming a rhythm, marching a parade of warmth and sensations back into my toes.
I resume my torturous peekaboo with the monitor. It finally relents. "Two minutes," it flickers.
But scarcely a dozen seconds goes by, and I can feel a new tremor joining my march. My half buried face turned to catch two distinct orbs. They were bright yellow. And they creep inevitably towards me. Then just as the neon light from the platform bathe the orbs, they sprout a windshield, complete with a faceless silhouette of a driver, and then an entire streak of a train snaked out of them. A metallic screech trumpets its arrival, welcoming it with carpet of wood and metal.
"Thank God it arrives early," I sighed victoriously to the spiteful monitor as it waves me one last goodbye and blows me one last frigid kiss.
