The Rain on the Platform

Dear Delyara, The train was delayed again tonight. I stood on the platform at Waterloo, watching the rain slant across the tracks. Everyone around me was staring at their phones, faces lit up with that pale, ghostly blue light. I left mine in my bag. I wanted to see if I could still handle the silence. It was uncomfortable at first—the urge to check for notifications is like a physical itch—but then I started noticing the rhythm of the drops hitting the metal roof. It felt like the world was trying to tell me to just be still. I’m starting to realize that the noise we create is just a way to avoid hearing our own hearts beat.