The KTM Series #12: Fixated

antsy
antsy

Shah Alam. 

This man is just looking at the station diagram. Bandage on his right hand, phone on his left. He’s still looking up, staring at it, occasionally typing something in his phone.

After a while he went back to sit.

Normally at this time, I would be on the way back from Sentral instead of heading towards it; it is a very strange feeling. Instead of being almost full, the train is almost empty. Everyone is quiet and I can only hear the creaks of the wheels against the tracks below me. It is so boring, like studying for a resit on your birthday.

Batu Tiga.

It felt like fucking ages to reach this station. My life feels like stale bread waiting to be turned into crumbs: unfit for its full potential. Have I told you how much I hate studying? I get …

Wait.

The same man is still looking up at the diagram from his seat. He seems fixated, as though waiting for his destiny to take its place at the station he is supposed to get off. His arms crossed, he rests his head on the wall on his left. Now he’s looking at his phone again. Hah, what are the odds that he is writing about me, writing about him. Funny.

You see, exams bore me; it saps the life out of life – its color, its variety, its wonders. But I know it’s an essential thing that students nowadays cannot do away with, because most employers cannot identify if someone is suited for a job other than reassuring themselves with pompous paper qualification and sugarcoated work experiences. Also, this is for all you employers out there: do not hire graduates if you do not want to trust them with responsibilities.

Setia Jaya.

This is taking ages. At least there’s more people on board, more life. Or less life, depending on who they are. That I am not sure of.

Angkasapuri.

Wow that was fast. This man is obviously nervous. I wonder if he’s going to sprint out the doors when we arrive at Sentral. There was never a minute he did not look at the LED diagram above the doors.

“Next station, KL Sentral.”

A little part of me is hoping Najib is there again. That would make my life a little more interesting. I know, why Najib though? You see, for something to be interesting it can be both good or bad. Najib is on the extreme end of one of these qualities.

His eyes are locked on the diagram again. He took off his bandage and inserted it into his pocket. I wonder what he is hiding from this person he is meeting. One second he’s cross-armed; the other, he’s playing with his fingers. The anxiety is overspilling. Train just shook left and right; it’s not normal. The train must be nervous too.

The doors opened and I walked up the stairs. He is nowhere in sight; I wonder what he is up to.

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