Man on the Train

He had a secret, the man on the train with the black slacks, a matching blazer, and an orange tie- a heavy golden band weigh down his left ring finger. The clocks meshed time together as one day accidentally fell into the next; paying attention to nobody, he was in a field of stillness since the incident. The cherished memories of laughter and endless love dragged him to hell, while belittling the fact that he was an outcast, a stranger even, in a world filled with ongoing exclusivity and friendships. Bitter, he couldn’t smile at the warmth of others’ alacrity, or hide behind the professionalism of his thriving business. He knew nothing, he was nothing, he craved nothing-his husband was dead, and took his life with him to the grave.