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Thursday, July 9, 2009

FoodFiction : Gum

The evening sent out a breeze that probably added melancholy to his already rattled mind. It was 8pm but the sun was still out, and from a distance, the tram he was waiting for wobbled towards him.

He looked at the sun once more before boarding the gargantuan metal casing. Another chance to be in a enclosed with strangers thinking in their own little spaces, he mused. He sat down, pulled up some gum and neatly stashed the wrapper to his backpack pocket as his eyes began to wander around the vehicle – there were 2 trolleys with kids, one was laughing and and one was crying. A man, most likely the baby’s father, pulled the baby out of his chair, and held him close. The baby’s crying ceased, and the wobbly tram again dominated the noise in the capsule. An old woman looked pensive as she stared at the distant horizon, perhaps thinking of grandchildren or the next day’s laundry The asian couple were still catching their breath (they almost missed the tram). All were oblivious to the man in a dark pin-striped suit and D&G sunnies at the corner, isolated to world through an ipod and a novel.

On his other side, a young woman stared at her feet. She was probably in her early 20’s, and her lips seemed to quiver and twist with the thoughts in her head. A heartbeat later, she began to cry. She buried her face into hands but let the tears roll noiselessly, with grief flowing like agony from a broken heart, a deceased loved one, or an undefined void in a seemingly pointless life. The tears never seemed to stop.

The sadness found its way to him. He felt for her, grieved with her, and let out a sigh unheard by the man in sunnies. Empathy found a pen, and a hand fished for the gum wrapper, where words were written, never to be read.

“Don’t cry – without pain you cannot fully appreciate happiness.”

He stood up and pulled the string for the tram to stop, hoping it also led to the tear ducts in her eyes. The words never made it to her, for those were his thoughts to this stranger in the short time and space that they shared, in this short span of time. Their paths may or may never cross again, life goes on, the tram picked up speed to take her away… and while the sun finally began to set he just hoped the melancholy in the evening breeze would brush the tears off her cheeks instead.

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Scribe's Notes

This pitstop is where incoherent ramblings seem to have meaning, where things or events are thought of and assessed, where great things are documented and perhaps any not-so-good happenings are written down in attempt to be forgotten!

So from the diversely abstract to the intensely specific, it's off to making tracks, and it is here where it stops for a thought or two.

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