Doors Opening

It crashes over her so strongly that she has to inhale deeply and remind herself where she is. She blinks, the feeling of gritty dust itching in her nostrils.

She can see the concrete walls patterned like a hive, feel the chill of the marble bench on the back of her humidity moist legs. The screens blare with red lights counting down the minutes, lights on the platform sparkling as a train screeches down the track.

She can hear the trio of chimes as the doors suck open, the crackle of a voice over the speaker. She could always spot the tourists by their panicked, screwed up expressions as they tried to decipher the garbled message.

She yearns to feel the annoyance of a late train, the discomfort of stopping mid tunnel as the lights wink in and out. She craves the feel of icy fingers of wind gusting by as she waits for the train to arrive.

She imagines the map, the colors webbing through the city and tries to trace the stops on the lines she rode. She thinks of Farragut West, U Street, Braddock Road as the rain plings against the fence outside, the sky a dark sheet of immovable clouds.

She is a long way from home.

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