As she sits on the train begging for life to move faster, the clock isn't ticking. She has her head in her hands, and silent tears are falling down her face. Her hair is falling around her face, as so are her memories. She is soaked by the regret, the inevitable sadness, and the music that isn't letting her go. People move all around her, getting up and sitting down. But she's stuck. A little voice by her head won't let her move. The voice pleads with desperation, screams with rage, and cries with reason. She can feel the words cut her like knives. She knows there's nothing she can do to stop them, and even if she did, she wouldn't. She deserves them.
She lifts her head from her hands and stares out into the ugly gray sky. Her eyes flutter as moments appear in front of her, moments that contradict themselves. The clouds gather on the outside and the drops start to fall. She wants to scream that she's sorry, but the thunder has stolen her voice. Her hands move desperately trying to find the way to stop anxiety and guilt from taking over her.
As she sits on the train begging for life to move faster, the clock stops.