things that start but never finish

I'm often reminded of those days, so distant in memory now, spent whiling away on local trains. It would seem too great an effort now to attempt to recall where I was heading or returning from. Somehow, after all these years, dates and times become a sort of fog in your mind. And after all that meticulous and weary exertion, details seem so insignificant these days. Still, of the countless hours spent staring out the windows at rice fields and faint traces of cities in the distance, I remember one moment particularly vividly. There was nothing especially striking about that moment, except that I felt a slight sense of finality---as if the world were about to end. Now, of course, it seems ridiculous. I'm sitting here typing this on the train, as people walk past, with ever the same sense of confusion and disillusionment. No, the world has not cease to exist. But looking out the window, I think back to that day where the skies hung heavy, like an ill-fitting hat.

"Excuse me. Can I move the seat back?", an old man in front of me asks. I was too lost in thought to realize he had spoken. It was only after the second "excuse me" that I turned to look at him.

"Uhh yeah," I muttered, not quite sure what he had just asked. He gave a half smile and returned to his seat.