The Space of a Song

Summer, 2015.

The sound of metal clashing against another ate every noise as the train approached the station. Hurried footsteps echoed. The summer air, recorded today a few degrees short of the body temperature, caused every clothing to be soaked in sweat. The clock read two o’clock in the afternoon.

Standing near the entrance, ignoring the sign that says “do not lean here” or was it? She gazed at the flying scene outside. Varying colours interspersed with busy life. A bus stopped on the side of the road for traffic violations; the man in the uniform writing while arguing with the guy on the bus. A young girl bought corn from a middle-aged lady. A corporate-looking man waved his hand for a taxi. All of these could be seen from the train’s windows; but only for a couple of seconds. What could be seen actually was just the bus stopped on the side of the road; the umbrella of the middle-aged lady’s make-shift stall; and the back of the corporate-looking man. The continuation? Found in everyone’s imagination.

Inside the train, a group of students loudly narrated their last exams. An intern complained about her resident’s attitude. A young boy cried for a toy that wasn’t bought. An old lady slept. From a lone man’s headphones on full blast, Semisonic could be heard singing of time closing. She had heard of that song before, somewhere �" maybe in a memory. A young girl was twirling just right across from her. She closed her eyes. Suddenly, everything shifted. She was still in the train; but it wasn’t the same train anymore.

Summer, 2013.

She lost her balance as the train stopped to the next station. New strangers filled the chamber that runs on tracks.

Them: Oh look! It’s the Arctic Queen.

A high-pitched homo sapien cut her from her thoughts; maybe a classmate. She stared straight ahead and ignored them. This was what her aunt had always taught her, if you show that you care, you’ll regret it. She got off at the next stop.

The bell tinkled as she entered the café. The aroma of coffee mixed with faint dust filled her nostrils. The old man at the counter smiled at her warmly. She found her seat, next to the window at a far corner of the café. A cheerful waitress smiled and took her order. She took out her book and began reading.

He: Can I sit here?

She looked up and saw a young man her age. He was tall �" lanky, like his clothes were shot straight to his body. His skin was pale like chalk. His eyes were the colour of honey. And the most striking thing �" a hospital mask covering the lower half of his face.

She stared at his eyes.

“Empty, like mine.”

He sat across from her. Semisonic singing about time closing could be heard from the speakers. The bell tinkled as another customer went in. The smell of coffee and faint dust still hung in the air. The clock read four-thirty. The sound of porcelain as it clanked against another. The pink tinge on her cheeks as blood rushed.

His eyes crinkled as if to smile.

Thirty minutes passed.

He: What are you reading?

She: What are you looking at?

He: The people walking by. No one came back again.

She: After Dark.

He looked straight at her. There was another pink tinge on her cheeks.

She: Why do you wear hospital masks?

He: Why do you lack emotion?

She: Why are your eyes empty?

He: Why do you blush when I look at you?

She: How many people had an orgasm today?

He: That’s not original.

She: I got it from a movie.

He: Fifteen.

She: That wasn’t original either. Why are you here?

He: To run away.

She: Emotional detachment?

He: Maybe. How about you, do you run away from people?

She: I run away from emotions.

He: Because they’re troublesome.

She: Because I won’t need them in the next seven years.

He: Early retirement?

She: Nice choice of words.

He:  I’ve read before in a book. One could implant false memories to another.

She:  Lost in the mall technique?

He: Yeah, that one. The participants were given four short narratives about childhood events and were instructed to remember it. However, one of the narratives was actually false. And according to the study, a lot of the participants chose the false narrative.

She tilted her head and looked at him. The bell tinkled again �" another customer had gone somewhere.

He: I used to have this memory. When I was five, I was in the grocery with my mom. All of a sudden, she just disappeared and I kept on looking for her; aisle after aisle of merchandise; crying and screaming, “Mom!” Then, she reappeared again. Laughing and telling me to never wander off by myself again. Now, I think it was just a false memory. Dad said mom died giving birth to me. I didn’t see my mom’s face in the memory either.

She: Maybe, it did happen. Just not in this consciousness; maybe in another.

He: Yeah, maybe you’re right.  

She: I’ve watched a movie before. A Japanese animated film. There was this young girl who got lost in the forest and was rescued by a spirit, who was actually a human before. He said that bodies made of magic were weak so the girl, being a human, was not allowed to touch him or else he’ll obliterate.

She paused. He sat staring at her, his eyes twinkled in interest.

They weren’t empty anymore.

Across the room, a man dropped his pocket of change. The coins made a clinking sound as they hit the wooden floor. Outside the café, a man almost got hit by a car. The day started to retire and the night awakened from its slumber. The sky turned into a mixture of purple, pink, orange, blue and red.

She: Do you think people could disappear?

He: Yes, they do disappear. Physically, it’s a molecular impossibility. But they could, in one way or another. And when they do, you wonder, were they really there all along?

She: I’ve never felt that. Having people disappear from your life.

He: I think you hardly feel anything.

She: I do feel something… sometimes. Like pain… in my head. I take medications.

He: When people disappear, it’s horrible. There’s no medication for that.

She: Why do you wear a mask?

He: Why do you blush when I look at you?

Blood rushed, resulting to another pink splash on her cheeks. He leaned forward, putting a lock of stray hair behind her ear. She caught a whiff of his scent. Comforting �" like books and coffee.

He caught a whiff of her scent. Addicting �" like warm sheets in the morning. He had heard her heartbeat, a slow rhythm of pumping blood. He saw her cheeks, an adorable colour of warmth.

They sat staring at one another. The cold coffee in the cup over the saucer lay between them. Semisonic was nowhere to be heard. Jazz replaced the music of twentieth century. The murmur of conversations floated around them. The corner provided a sense of privacy. The faint dust and aroma of coffee gave birth to magic.

She: I need to go.

They both stood. She went to the counter and paid her dues. The old man smiled at her.

Old man: You finally saw the one that’s worth feeling something.

She smiled back and left. The bell twinkling as the door closed.

There was twinkle in her eyes.

They weren’t empty anymore.

The clock read eight-thirty. They stood on the platform. Five minutes later, they heard the familiar sound of metal clanking against another.

They stood in front of each other, her height only reaching his shoulders.

He leaned forward, tangling his fingers into her short tresses. Her eyes closed. The rough texture of the cloth was overridden by the shape of his lips. She clung to his shirt. His other had went to her waist and pulled her closer. His eyes closed.

The buzzing of life only a whisper in the distance, the train arriving ate all the noise.

Summer 2015.

She lost her balance as the train stopped. Footsteps swarmed to the exit.

She could still remember his scent. Comforting �" like books and coffee. She could still feel the rough texture of the cloth and the shape of his lips.

The clock read two-oh-four. The buzzing of life only a whisper in the distance, the train arriving ate all the noise.