I am sitting in the tube.
Old, cold and squeaky plastic seat.
I feel the rather rough ups and downs of the rails.
My back is hunched.
It helps me breathe, when I have weight in my sternum.
I try to take deep breaths, without making it noticeable.
Arrive at my stop.
I inhale. as much as I can.
I stand up from the seat.
I feel my muscle. Every fibre of it.
Some contract and some expand. And then some relax.
They do it in a marvelous sequence and I am up.
I get out.
I know this metro like the back of my hand.
My hippocampus activates. And my skeletal-musculars follow.
I focus on my breathing.
I suck in my stomach. Try to keep my breaths from getting too heavy.
The weight in my sternum has turned into pain.
It pokes at my brain.
I tense up my eye lids.
I feel the coolness.
My tear evaporates from the surface of my eyes.
My building door is heavy.
I grab the handle and pull.
I lean back and put my weight on it.
I feel a moment of oblivion. As my muscle fibres sequentially contract and expand so rapidly.
I say hi to the doorman.
My body language reeks of misery.
He cheerfully reciprocate my hi.
I pushed the button.
I feel that kind of agony.
I see the numbers change in a small rectangle.
I hit 5, I lean on the rail. Put my head on the wall.
Loud announcement, and a beep.
Hippocampus. In the hallway.
I push on the door.
It is almost never locked.
Empty living room.
Enter my room.
Small and cramped.
I half climb on the bed.
Pull on the string.
See, my entire wall is a window.
It faces southwest.
I see the setting sun.
Orange and blue.
The end of my breath shakes.
Gently and violent.
I get violent.
I bring my legs in with my knees pointing the ceiling.
I pull my cover over.
I breathe carefully.
I come home.