“This is 79th” bellowed the intercom above. He sat still, as immobile as the chairs they all sat on. He tilted his head side to side absorbing an environment of people just like him yet so far from him. Faces he’s never seen before are the faces he’s so familiar with, they all wore the same face he wears, they’re all just as exhausted as he is. This isn’t the orange line nor any typical public transportation line you see. Not a line that truly has a set destination but it has stops and they always flood in with more passengers. Rarely are there people who depart from this line, he sat tho, he’s been on for quite awhile but he’s never truly opened his eyes until today, how beautiful it is, how similar yet so unique we are. On his left sat an elderly woman and to his right a young intellectual but all wore a face of worry, in his front stood a fancy man tech savy and fitted and some of the fanciest business casual attire he’s ever seen but he even wore a face of exasperation. All strangers to eachother but companions in this journey, how strange it is how they all voluntarily chose their solitude and choose to believe no one understands their suffering. How strange it is how they board hearing a hospitable welcome as if to let them know they aren’t alone but choose to stay in self inflicted solitary. He rose at the thought, smiled gave his seat to the next person waiting took the next exit for even though he may continue his journey with no one at his side, he wasn’t alone for not only are the people on this line facing these tribulations everyone was aboard this line, all are aboard, and all are welcome to go about it as their heart desires.