The Crying Man

There is a man crying on the train. The carriage is packed; they are huge undignified sobs - the kind that get caught in your throat. He is gasping for air as if his anguish refuses to fully come out. His fellow passengers seem uncomfortable. Some have chosen to react in their usual way to anything out of the ordinary on their commute: they are grimly trying to carry on as if nothing is happening. These are the ones looking at the floor with headphones in, or the ones with their faces hidden behind books; the ones with their face’s lit by the glimmer of their phone - the bland commute is best met with some form of entertainment. Some of the passengers are able to carry on like this, as normal, but some can’t help but feel distracted.

The man continues to howl in agony. His sobs bleed into the air. He has his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands as he softly pulls at his hair; unfortunately, he is man-spreading his grossly overwrought legs, whilst in – of all things - an aisle seat. The poor lady sat next to him can barely move. She is looking out the window, trying to enjoy the view but the evening commuter train only reflects back its interior.

The sobs are becoming increasingly hard to ignore. Some passengers are starting to stare at the crying man, without breaking their gaze. Others briefly peer up from their entertainments and then back down, unable to focus but unable to accept defeat.

Next to the crying man is sat a different non-crying-man. He has headphones, but his eyes have been darting all around the carriage, he keeps gently shaking his leg. Eventually he pulls his headphones back, so that they are draped around the spine of his neck.

“Are you okay?” he says.

The crying man briefly looks up in disbelief, and then continues to howl. A murmur of astonishment at the crying man’s rudeness goes around the carriage. Some who were initially sympathetic to his outburst are now crossly shaking their head and tutting. It is one think to be sad, it is a whole other thing to be rude.

The poor non-crying-lady in the window seat next to the crying man was contemplating trying to give him a reassuring pat but has since changed her mind. There are perfectly respectable non-crying people stood up, who were unable to find a seat who are now disgusted that such a rude, ungrateful man has been given the honour of a comfortable seated journey.

The shrill sobs continue.

A different non-crying man who is sat diagonally opposite the crying man has up to this point remained silent. He faces his weekday-daily commute with no form of entertainment and tends to just sit still, he sometimes stares out the window as a treat; he is a brave man. He has decided to take to action. He leans across to the middle of the four seats, with a look of haunted desperation and says “Look, I know how you feel – we all do, but you can’t act this here. It’s not dignified, it’s not right. There’s a time and place for this sort of thing. I think there’s a toilet on the next carriage if you really need a moment, but otherwise just wait till you get home. You’re not the only one who’s had a bad day. It might sound harsh, but you just have to suck it up for now and get yourself home in peace.”

As he stops speaking there is a still silence in the carriage, except for the dull whir of the train engines. Some train customers feel like applauding, feeling that their rights are finally being represented. The crying man slowly starts to look up from his hands. There is hope for all.

At this exact moment a few months old baby awoke from its slumber in its mother’s arms and starts to screech. It’s a horrifying sound, full of hunger, desire and entitled suffering. Naturally, this sound set off the crying man again. The carriage was filled with howls of despair from the young and old – all merging into one - generations united in one feeling. There were groans of frustration from the commuters.

The train pulled into a station and some passengers were all to glad to alight. One or two of the richer railway customers choose to get off a stop early and place their luck on finding a taxi home. The new passengers at unexpectedly rushed onto the train eagerly looking around for a vacant seat, and then became aware of the noise. They looked at the people with longer commutes with disgust, as if to say, “How did you let this happen?”

The next junction of train travel was an awkward affair. The train engine moaned and glugged through the motions - as did the baby, whilst the crying man continued to cry; the passengers continued to suffer in their own quiet way.

The train reached its next station and as it came in line with the platform, the still crying man got up for his stop and left.

#fiction