You know that sound. It’s not a gasp of horror—it’s a long, communal groan that travels through the carriage like a wave. We’re all tired, we’re all packed in like sardines, and now we’re stuck. The real tragedy here, for a split second, feels like the fact that you’re going to be late for your 9:15 meeting with Susan from accounting.
But then it hits you. Someone’s day ended on the tracks. Your train is now a crime scene. And you’re just sitting there, clutching your reusable coffee cup, wondering if you should feel guilty for being annoyed about the delay. You do. You feel a little guilty. But only for a moment, because your legs are starting to ache.
The Shuffle of Uncertainty
Everyone does the same thing. They look at their phones, then at the person next to them, then back at their phones. “Did you hear that?” a woman asks her friend. “Yeah,” he mumbles, not looking up from Twitter. The police confirm a person died, but the Underground doesn’t stop your brain from spiraling into the absurd.
You start playing the “How did it happen?” game in your head. Was it a push? A stumble? Did someone drop their glasses and try to grab them? Or—and this is the truly terrifying thought—did they just misjudge the gap? We’ve all done it. We’ve all teetered on the edge of the yellow line, lost in a podcast, only to snap back to reality as a train roars past. That could be you. But you quickly shake the thought, because that’s too morbid for a Tuesday morning.
