Endless Forms Most Beautiful

1- Doleful

The brisk wind hits Janis in the face as soon as she steps out of the train. She wraps her peeling leather jacket tighter around her body and huffs, the clouds of smoke that comes out of her mouth billow into the air. It wasn't unusual weather for a night in the middle of November, but Janis found it unpleasant nonetheless.

She adjusts her backpack on her shoulder. The knowledge of the stolen package hidden inside of it makes the bag feel ten times heavier. It's only a matter of time until Caitlyn notices its absence. And she will be coming for Janis' head when that happens.

Janis plumps down on one of the metal benches, nodding quickly to the man sitting on the other end of it; he doesn't respond, too focused on his newspaper. She closes her eyes, blocking the commotion of the incoming trains and the people walking by out of her mind, just for one second. She opens her eyes again, takes her phone out of her jacket, and tries to call Damian. One time, two times, three times. She gives up after the fourth time and shoves her phone in her pocket again, cursing him under her breath. She is exhausted. She has to fight the urge to curl up on that filthy bench and drift off to sleep. She might have to do that if Damian doesn't answer his goddammed phone.

Janis stays put for a while, unsure of what to do and too tired to think. She takes in the view in front of her. The train station is almost empty. A group of people wearing suits and carrying briefcases chat amicably, with coffee cups and cellphones in their hands, probably waiting to get home after a long day at their big, boring, corporative jobs; there's a woman with two sleeping kids sitting on the other bench; another one smoking near the edge of the platform, constantly looking over her watch; and a couple aggressively making out in the corner. Janis focuses her attention on the woman standing too close to the tracks. She is wearing a very pretty, dark blue dress and high heels as if she had just gotten out of a fancy dinner party. Contrary to the elegant clothes, her shoulder-length hair looks like an absolute mess. Janis can't see her face but she can tell by the way the woman keeps walking around that she is distressed. She leans her back against one of the pillars, throws on the floor the cigarette she was holding, and simply starts crying. Not loudly, at least not enough to catch the attention of the other people around them, but enough for Janis to notice. Janis keeps staring as the woman shakes against the pillar and tries to muffle her sobs with her hand.

Janis gets up from her seat and starts walking toward the mysterious woman. She feels like a wooden puppet, tied to invisible strings and being controlled by someone else, her movements not her own. She assures herself that whatever the woman is dealing with is not her business, but doesn't stop walking; she feels drawn to her, somehow. The woman stops crying after a while, drying her face with trembling hands as if nothing happened. With her back facing Janis, she doesn't notice her getting closer. One more time, she looks down at her watch. Something in her changes. She doesn't look distressed anymore. Delicately, she takes off her heels and places them neatly on the platform, then does the same to her bag.

When she finally turns around, only a few feet separate the two women. Janis freezes in place as they stare at each other. She takes in the woman's brown eyes — still wet from the tears— and her painted lips. Janis recognizes that face. She knows that face. She sees it every day in the mirror.

Is this a dream? Is she dreaming?

Janis opens her mouth but nothing comes out of it. The other woman doesn't share the same reaction as her. She doesn't look surprised. Doesn't look confused. She just looks tired. Minutes could have passed as they stood there, the two faces —the same face— looking at one another. Maybe hours. Maybe just mere seconds. Janis doesn't know.  Doesn't even remember.

All she remembers is the sound of the train arriving. And the woman jumping right in front of it.