dug into hell

Rattling surrounded him as he wept, shaking the ventilation and sending stationery skittering across his desk. He continued to brood, for the roaring of the train would persist, Just like last night, and just like tomorrow. Though it would never, could never, be as deafening as it was back in May.

A half moon sat high in the august night, shedding light on the dusty journals that littered the room, most left open on sketches of a young woman’s visage. Penned in shaky un-refinement they lay still, untouched like the ring next to them. Calm enough now to give into his lethargy, Sam lay down to an empty, unkempt bed, and drifted off.

Like most things in a large enough city, waking up was routine. At 8:53 every morning the complex would host an exodus, hundreds of content people spilling through the narrow hallways, over the matted carpets, down the lacquer-less stairs, and out onto the pavement. Boarding the train about 6 minutes later to (at least in Sam’s mind) assist with its mandatory and scheduled clattering.

Sam remained in bed, idly half absorbed in the ambience of conversation outside, though more devoted to a wish for extra sleep. A wish he bounced back and forth in his head as the morning chatter began to slow.

slowly bringing himself off his mattress as the clock ticked past 12 he trudged to the kitchenette, opening more instant noodles and staring blankly at the kettle as it boiled. He’d adjusted to one meal a day, and thus, sat back down at his desk, tentatively picking up the least empty pen he could find, he began to draw once again.

Hours passed and the moon began to rise once more, bringing about the ephemeral evening calm, he remained steadfast, faintly outlining any contours he could remember.

The nocturne monotony was pierced, he did not see, but distinctly heard a clamour drift through the night, signs of a mugging perhaps, though to his disillusionment it only meant reminiscence of May. There was only so much he could bear to admit to himself. He had lost control, He had been too loud. She had stepped out, he had wept, and 6 minutes later there had been a scream. But the train had roared louder.

Moonlight shone upon his desk once again, and a more intense strain of hurt started to course through him, overriding his agency like a lethal injection. Bolstered by the faint echoes of her face he’d so desperately transcribed, his tears began rolling down into his dishevelled beard as he wailed silently. A small peace, overshadowed as the rattling began, faintly at first, Sam wept louder, louder than usual as his pens began to rattle, and louder still as the ventilation started to vibrate.

He began to scream, higher and higher as the walls closed in around him. but the train roared louder. Just like last night, and just like tomorrow.