The metro station was pulsing with light, flickering from the dying bulbs overhead, emanating from open cell phones and getting caught in glasses frames and the reflective coverings on posters for upcoming movies and political campaigns. Voices bounced off of surfaces and whirled willy-nilly in the void of the open station where the trains rushed to and fro, many languages mixing in the open spaces and nooks and crannies to froth against the waves of people who moved against each other every ten minutes like clockwork, mingling together like milk and coffee in a travel mug.
In the hallways street musicians played franglish music on poorly tuned guitars, bilingual cardboard sign propped up against the portable xylophone played by a girl with dreadlocks and a rainbow colored skirt. The toonie thrown into the case by the boy walking with the dark haired girl bounced against the sides and settled into the small pile of gold and silver change. The singer nodded his head as they passed, and the dark haired girl squeezed the boy’s hand.
In the corner, an old woman rests her head against the cool porcelain tiles of the wall, long corduroy skirt trailing on the floor as she waits for the train to come. Her gnarled hands skitter on the handles of her bag and the vibrations tremble up her arm and through the tattered windbreaker. The soft rustling of the fabric announces her presence in the station and heads turn to find the source of the noise. She meets the eyes of a girl with long dark hair who is walking hand and hand with a boy in a baseball cap. The girl nods her head slightly in her direction. The train comes.