|sent from: Mortimer Street, London, UK. destination: Victoria, British Columbia, Canada|
Here’s the text of the card, since it’s a little hard to read:
The man stood on the train platform as he had done hundreds, probably thousands of times before. He, like the day and everyone else around him, was perfectly ordinary. The train pulled in, it was packed. Everyone shuffled in, cramming tighter and tighter, like livestock. The man was last onto his carriage, no space to even turn around. People shuffled and sighed, trying not to make eye contact. The door beeped, and in that moment the man stepped backwards, back onto the platform. The pendulum motion of his body swung his arms up and the doors closed on the strap of his briefcase. He couldn’t lose his case, he stood pulling on the strap, caught fast in the secure seal. He pulled and pulled. The squashed travelers inside stared out. The train began its slow departure and the man clung onto his precious, special briefcase. There was a grunt of exertion, a squeak as the rubber seal ceded its prisoner and the case fell onto the man, who stumbled back with the force. The train vanished, and he was alone on the platform.