In the metro station

From the depth of the dark tunnel I could hear the rumbling of a coming train. Like a distant thunderstorm, the tension, the climax, the wind gathering and surely approaching.

Then suddenly, amidst the random chatter of strangers and timid whispers of passerbys, between the sound of hurried footsteps and heavy shuffling of shoes, the soft kiss of music gently caressed my ears. Romantic, soothing, almost dreamlike in the surrounding noise and chaos, Chopin's Nocturne echoed in the underground concourse. Each note powerful and penetrating, reaching deep inside to touch and calm the heart. Only briefly, only enough to take me away from the city, away from the concrete walls and rails of steel, away from the confusion and hustle of modern life, but it was enough. Enough to conjure up memories and thoughts of beauty and serenity, of the kind that the city lacks, but which everyone undoubtedly longs for.

The train hissed past and ground to a halt. As I boarded, as the doors closed, as the music drowned away, as the floor beneath me vibrated, the music was gone. But in my head was left a pleasant, lingering echo.