Skip to the beat

He wanted to assess my heart. "Don't worry about a thing, in any shape or form" he said. I settled down to a quiet slumber. A few hours had passed when suddenly, without warning he burst into the room. He hadn't told me he was going to do this. My heart beat stepped up a gear. He looked at me to judge my reaction. "Chill" he mumbled, "lie back down and go to sleep". Next, he gave me a hefty dose of anxiety. I looked across at him, hoping to see him in control, but as I did he fell over. Was this part of the experiment? The result - instant tachycardia.

I realised I'd not consented to any of this treatment. What was I doing here anyway? Perhaps this was more of an answer, than a question.

Silent resignation

A couple sat behind me on the train reminiscing about a time when they had visited the town we were passing through. "We were at that junction for a long time, do you remember?" he asked her. "Yes, before we could turn", she replied. For such a strange conversation, I could relate to what they were saying. It seemed as though I'd been at this junction for a long time and I still hadn't decided whether to go left or right. Left looked appealing, exciting even, but right looked familiar, as if I'd been down that road before - maybe that was safer? I sat and waited.

"We walked along that path there", he said in a monotone voice. "Yes, we were carrying things" she said, with a subtle hint of pleasure. It seemed such a banal thing to remember, unless the items were of some significance. And if they were, there was a mutual understanding between the two of them. Words weren't needed to explain it as they sat in silence for the rest of the journey. They seemed to talk only in fragmented sentences. The gaps were filled by silent resignation.