Every morning covering the same old route, with its daily stops.
Every morning catching a glimpse of the same faces in the same places.
Scrutinizing each other discreetly, maybe with curiosity or some other feeling, unspoken.
Questions not asked, answers not given.
Stopping.
At the surface of things, looking for some entry point, a ray of hope which could open a new horizon.
Different codes, making any access impossible.
Only one more second before you go on.
Fleeting sensations in a different world.
Feeling alien.

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