Thoughts whirled through his head as the fleeting colours flashed by him, Jurek sat on his own, by the window, fidgeting nervously and constantly checking his pocket watch. It was late Wednesday afternoon and the train was packed full of people. Rush hour for all the folks returning home from work or school. He took a break from looking at the scenery whipping past to look at the other passengers around him. Just as he thought, several pairs of eyes had been staring him down, sizing him up or scanning him sideways. Perhaps they wondered why he was all dressed, perhaps they making up Jurek's life story as they imagined it judging on outside appearances, the possibilities were endless.
Jurek stood out from the rest donning a black fedora, a black blazer, a multi coloured psychedelic Beatles shirt, a crisp new pair of jeans with brand new tye-died Converses to top it all off. Catching a fellow in painter's garb openly staring at him , he politely tipped his hat, returning his gaze. The painter nodded in turn ever so slowly, it seemed almost rude, but maybe he was just beat tired after a hard day's work. Gruff in appearance. he wore an old jean jacket with a plain shirt, heavy duty cargo pants and steel toed boots all speckled with various kinds of paint. Jurek smiled inwardly for not two hours before he wore almost the exact same outfit because he too worked in the construction industry. No one on the train could have come to that conclusion. Tonight, Jurek is going out, not going home, so he must look his sharpest.
Resurfacing, his mind buried the thoughts of work and returned to the present, causing a new wave of anxiousness to suffocate him momentarily. The trees gave way for the skyscrapers, he was nearing his destination.
Glancing up, Jurek noticed the stout painter had disappeared and a plump East Indian lady sat in his place, almost like some sort of magician's trick. He noticed that she was averting eyes with everyone. She looked down at the floor, trodden, defeated. He felt sympathetic towards her, maybe things were not well in her household or someone close had passed away. Whatever the case, she looked very sad.
Suddenly, the streaming colours of the outside world vanished as the train lurched down into the underground. Two more stops, Jurek thought. Two more stops and the real trip begins.
Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved his camera. This will help calm me, he thought, as his excitement burst forward wiping away his anxiety. Street photography; Jurek loved it, there was no question about it and there was plenty of oppurtunity to put it into motion where he was headed.
"Ding," the tell tale bell sounded followed by the automated woman's voice announcing, "Granville". The train slowed to a full stop with its usual lurch, the double doors of each compartment opening in unison. From sitting to standing, people shifted quickly. Like any other busy station on this route, it was pure chaos; Everyone trying to get out all at the same time, a mob of hostile creatures pushing, shoving, fighting fr freedom. Then there are the silly cats trying to squeeze into the train through the same doors the others, including Jurek, were trying to exit. With elbows protecting his ribs, Jurek managed to break free from the sea of sub city dwellers and stepped onto the platform where his own freedom awaited him.
