Waiting for the Train - Original Writing

I am waiting for a train - the original writing I am sitting alone at the train station, Pearse station in the morning. I was 20 minutes earlier than the schedule and I was 15 minutes late. Trains are common. As far as I know, they use the same scheduling system as women. That's why I did not worry so much - I learned subsidies.

Waiting is like life. We are all in a different station, waiting for a different train to go to a different destination (or we are all in a different train and near a different station). While waiting for the train, you can listen to music, read newspapers, drink alcohol, watch the restroom, or just stand there. Sometimes, the group gathers in front of the committee. They looked up at the destination and time of the train. Some trains arrived very soon, and as their train arrived, some waiting people hurried in. Some people were waiting for the transit of the train or others came down from the train leaving the station. Then another group gathers, repeats the same routine, and the loop continues

Melissa returned to the station. She had to wait a few minutes for the next outgoing train to go home. When she got off the bus, it was almost dusky When she got a seat, she felt her underwear clinging to her butt, and noticeable slippage in her cracks There was something. When she reached home, she took a shower straight. It feels good. She stood in the spray and let her hot water drip on the soft body. She washed herself until her skin became a soap bubble. Her thoughts went back to experience early. When she was taking a shower and water flowed through her, she turned horny as she thought of it. This is undoubtedly the most bold sexual experience she has ever experienced.

We met at the station yesterday and were waiting for a train in our city center. I quietly scrolled Twitter to catch up with the theme of the day. You approach me and do not say hello, you should look at me. You keep watching me and keep watching over me. You are standing near me, and as you leave you, you are approaching. I sent a text message to my friend. "There is no personal space feeling for women who are at home with me." There is a young black man and we stand under the heat lamp. Unlike you, he is standing at a reasonable distance. He asked me casually, "Hey, do you have a quarter?" Please take some time to remember the exchange. He asked me, you are not. He never sees you. But you bring me closer. I answered: "Nobody, I'm sorry" He just walked, not far, enough to check the train. So suddenly I wondered why you invaded my personal space.