As the door of the train opens, she pushes her way between two rows of passengers to reach the deeper part of the compartment. People are leaning along the walls, there is no more empty space. She has to make do standing in the centre. She puts her bag down, against the side of her leg. She looks for the plastic holder hanging from the metal rail near the ceiling. To her surprise, the was none, they have been removed.
She grumbles silently and puts her palm against the wall to steady herself while the train takes off. It is difficult to maintain balance without actually holding on to anything. At times, her hand accidentally hits the book that the woman opposite of her is reading. She wishes she could trade spot with her and comfortably lean against the wall, peacefully enjoying the short story collection in her bag.
Even the metallic connecting floor is fully occupied that morning. Normally, that is the least favourite spot. Every time the train turns, the floor moves to the left and the right, making one standing on top feel giddy.