Yanking his scarf closer to his throat, he glanced at the screen only to read 10 minutes more to the arrival of his train. He was seated on the cold metal bench alone in the windy and isolated subway, accompanied only by the sound of a distant train and his insufferable thoughts. He brought his focus back to the computer that rested on his lap and began to type every thing he could recall that was reminiscent of the night.
The contention of his train of thought was directed to disappointment. Let him rephrase that, it was not just the disappointment that he had to deal with, but the bleak prospect and the fact that it was a savannah, blighed and devoid of any promise, where fulfilment and happiness were remotely possible or attainable.
He has had many encounters with the disappointment anomaly. Overtime, those disappoints has dissipated in his memory. Tonight however was cataclysmic in regurgitating everything he has experienced into his subconscious state. It was a cruel ratification to the truth.
It was late; it was a time in the night where he would have normally been in the warmth and comfort of home. But he was here churning over the days events that have unfolded. It was not a good day for him.
How many more of this could he endure? The debilitating effect this has on his hopes has been disarming and arresting. He has run out of avenues of hope. He is lost; he has reached a dead end.
Where could he find...