Nothing happens

Today, as I stood on the train, I didn’t know what to do. I looked down at my brown shoes, but nothing happened. So I looked away. I turned to watch the person in front of me staring into his phone. He didn’t move. Nothing happened. So I took out my own phone, hoping to find some relief. I flipped through the pages twice, then switched it off. The icons drowned in a flash of black. I looked up and stared at my own reflection; it was quivering in beyond the glass. The train jerked to a halt. People leave and people enter, and the train began to move once more. I didn’t know what to do. So I looked down at my brown shoes. Nothing happened. Nothing happens.

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