A Seat Without Reservation
The 8:10 train was different.
More crowded. More impatient. Less familiar.
Kabir stood near the door, slightly off-balance — not because of the train’s movement, but because he wasn’t used to not knowing the rhythm.
Mira held the overhead handle and looked at him sideways.
“Uncomfortable, Mr. Timetable?”
“I prefer structured chaos,” he replied.
She laughed. “This is unstructured chaos. Promotion comes with adventure.”
He noticed the small differences.
She stood more confidently now.
Her bag was heavier.
Her smile — the same.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked after a while.
“Because,” she said, “if I had told you before, you would have said ‘think practically.’ You would have calculated distance, time, fuel, comfort.”
“And that’s wrong?”
“No,” she smiled. “But sometimes I want to choose something before you measure it.”
The train jerked suddenly.
She lost balance slightly.
Without thinking, he held her wrist.
For a second, neither moved.
Then she slowly pulled her hand back.
“Relax,” she said lightly. “I won’t miss this train.”
He looked out the door.
“Platform 3 feels strange without you,” he admitted.
“Platform 1 felt strange without you too,” she replied softly.
A vendor squeezed between passengers shouting, “Chips! Biscuits!”
Mira bought a packet and handed it to Kabir.
“For emotional support,” she said.
He shook his head but took it.
“Tell me something,” she continued. “If one day I shift to a city where there is no train… what will you do?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
The announcement echoed: Next station…
He looked at her.
“I might finally be late.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“For what?”
“For once,” he said quietly, “I don’t want to reach before you.”
The train slowed.
Doors opened.
Crowd moved.
But this time
Neither of them rushed.
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