from nowhere in particular
...step off the train, squeeze through the gate and plod slowly across an empty carpark as a light drizzle floats down. The sun set during your journey so you navigate by the sodium-yellow light, out of the carpark and past some now-empty shops. A few streets later, you're home.
the next morning, you share the platform with the same people as every other working day since you moved to this suburb. it's almost as if you each have your own square of space marked out on the platform while you wait for the train. nobody talks, but there's a kind of near-telepathy as people share glances. eventually, there's a familiar bing - one you hear occasionally in your sleep, by now - and a disembodied voice says "good morning, passengers. the next train is the ...".