Yet another day at work.
Yet another day of suffering.
I have paid holidays I could use.
But what's the point?
It's not like I have anyone to spend them with.
Being alone doesn't hurt.
But the feeling of being alone does.
Another day passes, and I waste it again.
Sometimes I think about visiting the beach.
Just to hear something louder than my own thoughts.
I was at the metro station again, waiting for my train.
I had bought a book recently—maybe because I enjoy reading...
Or maybe in hopes it would distract me from her.
The train arrived. I got in.
Like every other day, I sat opposite her and pulled out my book.
She looked up at me.
"So, you read Traveler too?"
I blinked, confused.
I hadn't realized the book was written by someone named Traveler.
Who even names themselves that?
"Well, the shop owner recommended it," I replied calmly.
She burst out laughing.
I sighed. "Why are you laughing?"
She smiled.
"That book by Traveler is usually recommended to people with no life—to show them life can still be beautiful."
I chuckled under my breath.
Well… the shop owner hit the mark.
I have no life.
"That's not completely untrue," I admitted.
She tilted her head and studied me.
"Aren't you a weird one, mister."
I smirked.
"Isn't the whole world?"
She laughed.
"So, mister genius—do you think you're better than everyone else?"
I shook my head.
"No. Just... most people."
She smiled again.
"If you're so smart, then why are you wasting your life instead of living it? Try living a little. The world isn't all ugly."
A beautiful face, and a beautiful mind.
What a rare combination.
"And also," she added casually, "get some sleep. You look like a lunatic who hasn't slept in a month."
"Rude," I said, matching her calm tone.
"I haven't slept for just one week."
She raised an eyebrow. "That explains it."
We both returned to our books.
Just me, her, and the silence.
Eventually, she got off at her usual station.
I lit a cigarette.
I'm like the ashes.
I exist.
I leave a mark.
But I'm mostly just trash.
This book is interesting.
But not practical.
She is beautiful.
But not mine to adore.