The train was moving at a steady pace. The noises it made were at a minimum. If you closed your eyes, however, you could hear and feel every cylinder engage into a hectic explosion that made the machine active.
I was alone in my compartment, and even though there was a no smoking sign, I had one between my lips. The window was open. The fresh air burst through with a whirlwind speed. I enjoyed it's breeze. I took out the cigarette from my mouth with my thumb and middle finger and exhaled once into the clean oxygen. Then I laid back in my seat.
As I was about to put the nicotine back between my lips, the door opened. A redhead. She looked scared. No. She looked terrified.
"Pretend you know me," she said as her eyes were looking all over the place. She closed the door.
I kept my cool when she sat to my right.
I was about to ask something when the door opened again. One guy with a scruffy beard, wearing black sunglasses and a corduroy hat.
"Come here," he said.
"I don't want to," she said.
"Now!"
"No."
She put crossed her arms with mine and put her head on my shoulder. As nice as it was, the tension was high. I puffed.
The male came inside the compartment, closed the door, and grabbed her arm.
"Let go," she said. "It hurts."
"I don't know who that is, but you're coming with me."
"He's my lover."
"He doesn't even care about you."
"Yes, he does."
At that point I had two choices. Either I stood down and pretended to not care, or do the following thing.
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