Commuters En Route We walk side by side, close enough to brush skin, but too far to touch soul. Each of us dressed in stories, some stitched in pride, some barely holding seams. Eyes meet like questions without answers. A glance, a gesture Was it curiosity? Was it judgment? Or just the passing flicker of being seen? In this brief transit, we play our roles the pretender, the protector, the wanderer searching for meaning in a world moving too fast to notice. Above us, silent symbols float, thoughts unspoken, truths disguised as posture. We are all en route, to somewhere, to someone, to the next version of ourselves shaped by the weight of passing strangers and the invisible things we carry.
