Perpetuum mobile

She buttons her cardigan, her back against the wind which makes it hard to button. She can hear the tram coming near even before she sees it. The rails make that familiar noise. As she turns to face the tram, while removing a strayed lock of hair that the wind blew in her eyes, she sees the people around her push forth to be the first to get on board. The vehical hasn’t even stopped yet, and already the rush has begun.

Looking out the window, she hears some elderly women talking right behind her seat in rapid conversation. Spanish. I didn’t knew there lived Spanish people here, she thought. On her right some high school students rehearse they chemistry notes together. Probably exams… In the back a small child is crying for its dropped toy; the father annoyed on his cell phone while shooshing the child.

She puts her left arm to rest on the window’s border, so she can rest her head on her hand. The tram goes on his usual trod between the trees. Sun pushing through the leaves, flickering in her eyes every moment or so. Almost a repetitious rhythm of shadow and light. As she nears her destination, she almost regrets that the flickering rhythm will end. She’d rather spend the day outside than all day stuck at her desk.

As she looks around the tram, she sees familiar people. She doesn’t know them, but shares this morning’s ride with them every day, to different destinations but together none the less. There’s the slender, always dressed in grey’s, 40 or what lady. In her typical stiletto’s; she can barely hold her balance. And the 30 something man in his yuppie suit, with his German paper folded to the sport’s section. Each day, the gypsy-type woman steps up on the stop right before the turn, usually dressed in one colour from the clips in her hair to the 60’s shoes on her feet. Today: lime green. Bold choice… yet it suits her darker skin colour. I could never get away with that. I wonder what she does… She looks artistic, with her vintage bag and drawing folder. That’s a clue.

In the past couple of months, the girl has seen seasons change while sitting on the tram. Other colours but same route, same time, same commuters mostly, same destination. Yet a little different every time. Just slightly. Riding into the summer this time… the thought of changing route, no restricted time schedule, other travellers and a very foreign destination becomes more and more appealing.

Shaken out of her thoughts as a passing man accidentally stumbles against her as the tram hit its breaks, she is reminded she’d better get ready to step off. The ride has reached its end for her. On the street, now warmer then before the ride began, she walks on to the office. Keeping in mind that very soon, she’ll be on that different destination. 2 weeks of tramless bliss with my love. But till then, still morning trams…

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