Touch- A short story

It was a rush hour in the city. The whole city was running. A women was running among them. A women in mid-20(s) wearing a skirt and a formal shirt running towards something. She has a purse with her. The purse looks expensive. She is still running. What is she running towards? She is running towards a wall, a shadow or an underpass? She is wearing a high heel stilettos. She can’t run fast but is trying her best to walk as fast as she can towards something. She approaches a wall. The wall is covered with grey rough tiles stretching over the whole wall.

She looks at it. Looks up and then runs towards right. She cannot breathe properly. She is holding her breath. She is taking rapid breaths. After turning right she goes behind the wall. The wall is the underpass of a very busy and crowded city. She tries to squeeze into the crowd. She tries to get pass a tall bearded man. She tries to get pass a mother of two walking slowly with her children in her way.

She is sweating because of the heat in the subway. She sees something and tries to run fast. A noise of halting train comes and she panics. She summons her courage and breaks into a sprint slicing her way through the crowd.

She jumps with all her might in a train that seem to be less crowded and her ticket to home. Ah, home, the warmth, the space, the freedom, relaxation. But wait, she is still one inch away from the gates. She scoops herself in before the closing of doors and lets out a deep breath. But still she does not relax her facial muscles. She must find a spot to sit or she might faint. She looks around and finds a spot about to be emptied and before anyone else could take it, leaps at it like a lion to its prey. She tries to calm down but only home, hot shower, her blanket could. She looks around hastily to pass her time by sneering at peoples behaviors.

Photo by: Shivangi Mittal

In the crowd, she saw a woman talking on her phone close by and her conversations made her laugh. She looks around she sees a couple in a corner taking in hush tones. She saw a women who seems constantly worried about her sari’s plates. She saw a man sitting beside her constantly staring at a young women standing across of him. She frowned. She does not like the way these men gawk, she wants to scream, and she wants to protect the women from all. She wants to poke the eyes of men who cannot curtain their desires and gawk like a pervert. She was deep into her imagination as to what should be done about these men when suddenly she saw two eyes. She stopped. These were not eyes of a gawking man. Those were not perverted. Those eyes were looking into hers. Those eyes were studying hers. She wanted to break the contact but cannot. She cannot turn away from those eyes. Those were deep. She can look forever in those deep understanding eyes. She never felt that way. She once saw in a movie how the world seem to disappear when eyes meet. She had ridiculed it but all she can feel now is her breath that is surprisingly calm and those two eyes. It must have been hours, she thought, but she cannot let go of those eyes.

She averted her eyes and as did the other. She was suddenly back in that train where she didn’t want to be. She looked again and there they were again. She now mustered all her power to tear away and looked at the face bearing those angelic eyes. There across her in that train, sat a women in jeans and t-shirt. She was holding a sling bag in her lap. She looked into those eyes, those deep light brown eyes, those loving caring and wonderful eyes.

She closed her eyes to keep that all in. The feeling, the touch of her eyes. She needed time. But she was too late. Those eyes were gone. She searches for those eyes in the crowd slowly. She did not find it and after a minute which seemed like a lifetime. She stopped searching. Closed her eyes and saw those eyes. She smiled. She was as relaxed as she can be.