Saw you on the train Except it wasnt you againI could not containThat feeling in my heart again For what its worthI still love youFor what its worthI still need youAnd I just cant let you goNo I just cant let you go- Maggie Eckford, For What Its Worth Foreword             Public transportation was always a sort of a sweet escape. There were familiar faces, but no one really cared to get you. No one really minded when it was late at night and you got on only to pull your coat over your eyes and cry some before taking a quick nap. Your phone, which was older than most, buzzed when it was about time to get off, and with a heavy sigh and strayed glances from the people around you, you would get up, off, and trudge home. Nothing spectacular ever happened nor did you meet anyone that made your breath catch in your throat. Nothing made the cold days a little warmer and nothing made the hot days a little more bearable. There was a bleak nothing, and in it, there was comfort.            Life day after day seemed like clockwork, but in between the ticking there was a small amount of solace that was found when you’d step foot on the subway every morning to work, and as usual, nothing new, no one new, and no one knew. Last night was another sleepless slumber in which eyes kept burning in salted liquid and the pillow was too wet to comfortably sleep on. The light outside the window was too bright and the lump in your throat was too big and the voice in your head was too loud. Everything seemed to come in twos.            Like how it was two in the morning when the lights (two of them) shone through the window and two little paisley drops fell down two cheeks from two eyes and it hit the bed large enough for two, but there was only one on there, and that was too lonely. The train today though seemed to dawn less than the usual two passengers per stop, and on the one two stops before yours, one person got on and looked over to you. With a quick turn of the head, you looked away, but to no avail, the person came over and sat across from your seat, setting down his bag and offering a warm smile.            “Good morning.” he said. You looked up from under bangs and studied him, wondering who he was and why he was new to the train. The clockwork had been interrupted.